


Black Ice

by belivaird_st



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:00:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 21,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17165810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belivaird_st/pseuds/belivaird_st
Summary: Carol & Therese throw a holiday party at their apartment. Genevieve doesn’t accept them at all.





	1. “She’s...nobody.”

Carol held onto her cola beverage in a wide, plastic cup, allowing a small group of friends admire the bright red knitted Christmas sweater she wore for tonight’s party. It had a picture of a giant snowman wearing a top hat, coal buttons, tree branches for arms, and a long carrot nose. It was handmade, and Therese was wearing the exact same thing.

“Matching sweaters! How cute!” Jeanette Harrison took a bite of her celery stick over a plastic Dixie plate. “Did you girls have a nice Christmas?”

“Yes.” Carol tapped her red-and-green polished nails gently on the plastic rim of her cup. “I got a brand new stole.”

“Let’s see it,” Jeanette urged. 

“I’ll show you. Follow me to the bedroom closet.” Carol finished the last sips of her sugary drink before setting the empty cup down on the vinyl table cloth like the others did with their kitchenware. She led Jeanette, Gale Tibbetts, and Rosalind Hurst out of the crowded living room.

Therese was busy tying up some trash bags by the drawstrings outside. As she soon as she dropped the fourth bag into the barrel, she felt a pair of hands cover her mouth. Muffled screams, she was being flipped around. Standing in front of her, dressed in a silvery, tinsel blouse and black slacks, was Genevieve Cantrell.

“Hey,” she greeted. “Did I scare you?”

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Therese shouted. Their breaths were floating in the cold air.

“Shhh, take it easy.” Genevieve took sight of the knitted Christmas sweater. “What a cute snowman.”

Therese glared back at her. She slid both hands further up her sleeves and began to move her black pair of moccasins towards the pathway of the apartment—slipping on a patch of black ice in the process. 

Genevieve quickly caught Therese from behind and propped her back on her feet.

Back upstairs in the bedroom, Carol had seen everything: Therese slipping on black ice and then falling in the arms of another girl. Another woman.

“You’ll let me borrow this, will you, Carol dear?” Jeanette was busy twisting herself left and right, petting the mink fur with her hands. 

“Me too!” Rosalind chimed.

“And me,” Gale added.

Carol broke away her focus from the window and smiled at the ladies.

Therese was filling cups of egg nog with a metal ladle and then started passing them out to people when Genevieve approached her once more.

“Swell party,” she said, making some nog splatter on the floor as she took a cup.

Therese could hear music coming from the living room. People were dancing to an upbeat song on the piano. She could see Carol being dipped and twirled around in the arms of a gentleman.

When the party was over, everyone was grabbing their hats and coats on their way out the door. Therese caught Genevieve winking at her as she was the last person to leave. Scowling, Therese closed the door shut and went to go help clean up.

Carol was picking up empty plastic plates and cups off the furniture to throw them all in a wastebasket. Therese’s hazel green eyes were following her every move. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” Therese found herself asking. 

“It was fine,” Carol replied. She stood beside the table lamp. “How about you?”

Therese shrugged. She was glad that it was all over. She watched Carol move on towards the mantelpiece above the fireplace, grabbing somebody’s empty carton of cigarettes. 

“Who was that girl from the party? The one dressed in silver?” Carol mentioned the subject during the late hour of them settling for bed.

“Genevieve,” Therese sighed. “She’s... nobody.”

Carol decided not to pry as she tucked one side of the bed with Therese tucking the other. Then she began to fluff out her two pillows before climbing on.


	2. “Genevieve, is it?”

At the Laundro-Mat, Therese lifted open the square metal lid to one of washer machines while Carol went ahead and tossed a dirty pile of clothes inside. “I left the box of soap chips on the folding table,” the divorced mother explained.

“I’ll go get it,” Therese said. She stepped past Carol at the rumbling, whirling washer and dryer machines to make a sharp turn on the right. She saw two ladies and a young man already in the process of folding their laundry at the long, rectangular table. 

The bright orange detergent box was left where Carol had placed it. Therese grabbed it and turned around to see the glass entrance door open to reveal Genevieve with a basket of laundry. 

She smiled, wide and friendly, but Therese didn’t smile back. As she started coming towards the antsy photographer, Therese hurried away with the box of soap chips.

Carol stood and waited by their washer machine. She stared as she watched Therese pour more than half of the powdered soap into the load. Closing the lid shut with a loud clatter, she started feeling her pockets for change.

“Honey, something wrong?” Carol spoke, sliding a few of her own quarters in the metal slot that came from her coin purse.

Therese didn’t have time to say. Genevieve approached them now with her basket and gave them a polite nod hello.

“Hello, Therese, hello, Carol,” she formally greeted them. 

Carol looked at the same girl from the party. Therese spilled a fistful of change out from the pocket of her plaid skirt. Pennies, nickels, quarters, and dimes, scattered everywhere on the floor like fallen raindrops from the sky.

“Genevieve, is it?” Carol spoke, arm outstretched to shake hands. 

“Yeah.” Genevieve shook Carol’s hand and watched Therese pick up her pocket money like her life depended on it. “I had a real nice time at the party...” she turned to her washer machine and pulled the lid open. 

“Glad to hear it,” Carol nodded. She watched Gen dump all of her dark clothes inside the machine before reaching for the soap box. 

“May I?” 

“Help yourself,” Carol said, allowing the girl to take the detergent and pour some into her washer. 

Therese had managed to collect all of her loose change and put them back inside her pocket.


	3. “Well, I did, so shoot me.”

Genevieve slammed the metal lid of her washer machine shut before slipping her own roll of quarters through. “They’ve just opened a really nice antique store on Cherry Street if you girls are interested?”

“The Temple,” Therese muttered. “My colleague wrote an article in the paper for their grand opening.”

“Want to check it out while we wait for our loads?” Genevieve playfully nudged Therese, who was unaware of Carol raising her brows.

“Arthur did say they were selling a Univex Uniflash over there,” Therese stood back tall and confident now. She was growing fascinated by the particular item she liked.

“Carol?” Gen dabbed her nose with a finger. But she was smiling the whole time, as if she was in the middle of telling a humorous tale.

“You two go ahead,” Carol said lightly. “I need to pick up another carton of cigs at the drugstore, anyway.”

“I-I will go there, instead,” Therese stammered. Carol refused the offer with a shake of her head and a pressing pat on the girl’s cheek. Her eyes twinkled with merriment, but there something else hidden beneath them. 

Leaving the Laundro-Mat together, Genevieve and Therese walked to the antique store on Cherry Street with a strong, cool wind blowing. Therese bundled herself more inside her wool coat, but didn’t expect Gen to actually remove her personal yellow scarf to go tie it and wrap it around her neck.

“Thanks, but you didn’t have to do that,” Therese muffled behind the itchy fabric. 

“Well, I did, so shoot me,” Genevieve clipped back.

Carol stood outside of the laundry building, taking a long drag of her cigarette. Shivering from the cold, she kept thinking about Therese. And the decision of not coming along. But she, herself, was a businesswoman, who worked at a furniture shop, that was losing its customers over the fancy antique store. The shame and guilt it would bring on her, if she went behind her company’s back to walk inside her very own competition!

 _Therese doesn’t know,_ Carol realized. _If she did, she would have never joined Genevieve in the first place. And by me saying anything would only make me sound arrogant and selfish!_

Carol slowly pulled her burning cigarette out her mouth to blow more smoke into the crisp, cold air.


	4. “Move out the way.”

The Univex Uniflash camera laid on top of a blue doily cloth layered table next to a chestnut wood jewelry box filled with sterling silver rings, necklaces, and bracelets. Fascinated by the device, Therese picked up the item and began to examine it. Genevieve was standing beside her, touching the Victorian-style brooches and cuff links.

“Neat place, huh?” she broke away the silence that lingered between them.

Therese put the camera back down. She moved her feet along to browse some more. The shopkeeper behind the counter was ringing up a purchase for a grandmother and her grandson. He smiled at them as he handed over a brown paper wrapped parcel and pulled a lemon flavored candy stick from his shirt pocket to give to the grandson.

Genevieve turned around to watch Therese walking past a row of old rocking chairs; stopping in front of one to pick up a teddy bear left propped on the seat. Gen moved closer to stand right beside her. “He looks lonely,” she said. 

Therese snorted. “How would you know?”

“He just said so,” Gen then reached over to grab the bear’s paw and make it wiggle around. “ _Buy me, Therese_ ,” she spoke in a squeaky voice that got a smile out of the woman. “ _Buy me!_ ”

“That’s nonsense,” Therese rejected, placing the bear back on the chair. Genevieve kept staring at her as Therese kept moving forward. She carefully reached up to tap on one of the wooden toy model airplanes that were dangling from the ceiling.

The shopkeeper waved both the grandmother and grandson a farewell goodbye as they departed the store. Glancing at the two ladies, he decided not to bother with the likes of them and disappeared into another room in the back.

“Our clothes should be all done washing,” Therese said, turning for the door.

“We just got here,” Gen scoffed. “What’s the hurry?!”

Therese kept moving forward and stepped outside with Genevieve running after her; blocking in front of her way. She grabbed onto her shoulders, locking her brown eyes into Therese’s startled green ones. 

“Move out the way,” Therese said firmly.

Genevieve released her grip, raising her hands up. Therese ripped the scarf off and held it back out to the girl.

****

****

xxxxx

Carol was sitting in one of the plastic chairs when she saw both women coming back. Each expression on their faces were very similar—wary, distant—like they had a lousy time...

 _Good,_ Carol smirked. _At least I’m not the only one who feels it._ She had set her purse aside to stand up just in time to reunite with her angel. “Did you have a lovely time?” she asked, purposely reaching up to tuck parts of Therese’s coiffed brown hair neatly back in place where Genevieve could see in full view.

“It was fine,” Therese took a deep breath, relieved to find Carol cool and content. As they stared at each other, longingly, both of them were giving each other signals that one missed the other from being apart for so long.

Genevieve couldn’t stand it any longer. She abruptly stepped between them to get to her washer.


	5. “Darling, the wall.”

“I’d like to know more about Genevieve,” Carol spoken up during the car ride home. She stopped the Packard in front of the crosswalk on the road to let a young couple pass through. The man was holding the woman by the waist. The woman was keeping her head down with her hands shoved deep inside a dark brown muff. Her husband peered directly at Carol through the windshield glass and tipped her a ‘thank you’ with his fedora hat.

“What do you want to know?” Therese pulled herself from leaning up against her car window on the passenger side.

“Did you two have history?”

“Sort of,” Therese murmured. “It was back when you and I were no longer seeing each other anymore...” She now turned her head away to look out the window. “I don’t think we should discuss—I would like to talk about something else, please.”

“Alright,” Carol gave a slight nod. “What do you feel like having for lunch? Tuna or Ham?”

“Ham.” Therese leaned back against the head seat.

Carol fell silent now and pressed the gas pedal with the heel of her shoe.

xxxxx

They sat and ate lunch together in the kitchen. Slices of cucumber, tomatoes, leafy greens, mayonnaise, ground-up ham, and dill pickles. 

As soon as Therese set her glass of cola down, Carol spotted a blot of mayonnaise on the corner of her mouth. She quickly, without saying anything, got up from her chair at one end of the table, and went right over to Therese’s direction. Therese watched Carol lean their faces close to dab her with her tongue.

“You had a little mayo on you,” Carol informed. “I got it.”

Therese smiled.

xxxxx

Therese sat naked on top of Carol in bed. Legs pinned at the woman’s sides, she massaged Carol’s left breast, making the older woman release a shortness of breath the moment Therese quickened her speed.

“ _Darling, the wall,_ ” Carol spoke between breaths of laughter. “ _You'll damage the—_ ” she had let out a peculiar sound that was music to Therese’s ears. Therese paused for a second and then came right after. She felt hot and wet. Her chest was heaving her full-rounded breasts.


	6. “If that’s the mailman, he can wait.”

A scuff mark was left on the wall from the headboard slamming into it. Carol went to go soak a tissue from the bathroom sink to scrub it off. Therese had been watching the entire time while lying on her belly with the bedsheets twisted around her torso.

“I didn’t mean to,” she started.

“It comes right off,” Carol reassured.

They ended up taking a bath together. Carol leaned backwards one side of the curved tub. Therese leaned up against the other. The two of them started to fool around—trying to balance one of each other’s dominant foot above water without slipping. Foamy globs of suds covered parts of their sleek, wet skin. Calves. Kneecaps. Shins. Carol had been the first one to slip her right foot off from Therese’s left; hitting the bath water with a loud, splashy “plop!” She started laughing, folding her leg back up. Therese was grinning back at her, carefully dropping her foot back down.

The doorbell buzzed from downstairs with a loud, pounding of knocks. 

Both women fell quiet now, staring at one another.

“If that’s the mailman, he can wait,” Carol said.

Therese didn’t respond. She kept listening for more, but nothing came.

xxxxx

All washed and dressed up in their new holiday winter robes—Carol’s was silver-blue, Therese’s was a bright red—both ladies descended the stairs going straight for the foyer. Therese was peeking through the peephole before she unlocked the door chain. Pulling the door wide open, she invited a gust of arctic January wind blast in, making Carol shiver and clutch the neckline of her robe.

Nobody except a stuffed teddy bear with a folded note attached was left on the welcome mat. Recognizing the bear from the antique shop, Therese stared down at it with her mind on Genevieve. She couldn’t believe the bear was right below her moccasins—bought and sold—from the likes of Miss Cantrell.

“Darling, you’re letting the cold air get in,” Carol hinted.

Therese blinked, breaking from her daze. She quickly picked up the bear and brought it inside with them.

xxxxx

Closing the door shut, Carol took several seconds locking the chain back through with Therese in the background holding onto the stuffed animal. Her mouth had gone dry like sandpaper and her heart rate was beating too fast.

Carol eyed the bear with interest. Therese removed the note from the sewn paws and opened it. 

“My name’s Lonely Bear,” She read out loud. “All I crave and desire is for your love and attention. Please take good care of me. I need you... I love you... Forever Be Mine.”

“Who’s it from?” Carol asked.

“She did this,” Therese replied. “Genevieve.”

Carol smirked, but Therese didn’t find it amusing. She had set both the note and bear down on the cedar table stand in the hallway before making her escape to the living room.


	7. “Please just leave us alone.”

Therese sat on the floor with her knees folded underneath her robe sorting out the vinyl records alphabetically. She didn’t even look up at Carol when she entered the room holding her golden cigarette case.

“Let’s send the bear back,” she spoke deeply, unclamping the metallic open to pull a cigarette out. “Include a personal message that we aren’t interested.”

Therese thought that was a brilliant idea while tucking The Chordettes in front of Rosemary Clooney, then going for Perry Como next. She picked up The Crests to brush some dust off and slide it back inside the book shelf.

Carol stuck a cigarette in her mouth just when the doorbell rang again. _What now?_ she wondered. Putting the cigarette case down on the coffee table, she tied the belt robe tighter around her waist before heading back into the foyer again. 

Opening the door, Carol found the mail left on the welcome mat. She flipped through it.

“Just the mail, my dear, false alarm,” she said, catching the wide-eyed look on Therese’s face.

xxxxx

Therese shook out a clean, rinsed plate by the kitchen sink after dinner that night, letting Carol take it from her to set it on the drying rack. They ate roast lamb with collard greens, mashed potatoes and gravy. There was a tub of cherry pistachio ice cream for dessert. Carol mentioned she had bought some vanilla wafers from the grocery store to go with it.

The telephone rang, high and shrill. Therese went to go answer it. Wiping her hands with a dishrag, she threw it over one shoulder and went to the small table in the hallway where the phone was located.

“Hello?” she answered.

A nasally, small voice broke through:

“Did you get Lonely Bear?”

“Genevieve,” Therese murmured. “You have to stop doing this.”

“Doing what? I bought you the bear you wanted!”

“I never wanted that,” Therese snapped. “You can’t call this number again. Do you understand?”

“I messed everything up,” Gen went on, voice cracking. “What we had together... Our love for each other!” 

“That wasn’t love,” Therese closed her eyes. “I was going through something—I needed comfort.”

Genevieve laughed hard and forceful. “You are a fucking _louse_ , Terry Belivet,” she sniveled and sobbed. “How dare you even put that on me?!”

“Please just leave us alone,” Therese mumbled, eyes darting across to Carol, who now appeared, perplexed.

Genevieve sniffled and snarled, “Fuck you, bitch,” and then made the other line go dead.

Therese had pulled the phone away from her ear and then placed it back in its cradle.


	8. “Hm. New blood.”

Carol slept soundlessly on her side of the bed. Her red nail polished hand was laid on the pillow. She looked peaceful with parts of her golden blonde hair draped over the side of her face. Therese moved out from underneath her bare arm to get off the bed.

After a quick face wash, teeth floss, and brushing, Therese stood alone in the hallway dressed in a cream long-sleeved blouse and long cardinal red skirt. She slipped into her old wool coat before grabbing her spare house key and her work satchel. Heading for the door, she stopped and turned back to the teddy bear and note from Genevieve she left yesterday on the small cedar table. Rethinking back to Carol’s suggestion, Therese decided to return the bear and note on her own free will. She blamed herself for this whole ordeal. She was the one who mistakenly invited Genevieve to the Christmas party in the first place and brought the girl into the life she was trying to spend and have with Carol.

Because her satchel was too small to carry him, Therese took Lonely Bear and shoved him inside the neckline of her coat to prevent him from getting wet from the flurry chunks of snow falling outside. She slipped the written note deep inside her pocket before starting to make her way out the door.

The City & Parks Community had made their rounds and had shoveled and salted the front steps of the apartment. Therese knew that this sweet gesture would please Carol very much and she would make sure to phone and thank them later in the day.

A stalling, blue-silver Mercedes vehicle was parked alongside the curb waiting for her. Therese’s brown laced boots crunched through the snow towards the car near the backseat. She reached for the silver handle and pulled the car door open; greeting her identical twin friends—George and Faith Perron. 

“Mornin’ Bel,” Faith spoken, the younger twin by three minutes. Faith turned her light brown head sideways to watch Therese slide into the car with her bag in place. Her brown eyes widened from the sight of Therese pulling a child’s teddy bear out of her navy wool coat.

“What’s with the bear?” George peered through the rear view mirror. 

“I’ll explain after we go to the post office,” Therese said.

xxxxx

At the local post office, Therese was able to package Lonely Bear with a new handwritten note that said:  
_You might need Lonely Bear more than me._  
_Please take care of yourself,_  
_Terry_

Next in line, she handed the packaged mail to the service worker and left. Shutting herself into the backseat of the Mercedes, she went ahead and told the twins about Genevieve.

The twins found Genevieve’s behavior worrisome. The fact that she hand delivered the bear on Therese’s doorstep and then telephoned her that same evening sounded like a crazy person would do.

George and Faith both thought she should be put in a psych ward. Therese couldn’t speak, thinking that idea was a bit over the top. _It hasn’t gone down to that, has it?_ she wondered.

They dropped Faith Perron at her job at the Cloth House. She waved goodbye to both her brother and his friend with a smile before walking away in her pink blouse and white skirt.

George worked as a sports reporter for The Times. He offered Therese to ride in the passenger seat and let her fiddle around through the radio stations on the way there. 

xxxxx

The newsroom was fine until seconds before lunch time when Therese’s typewriter was jammed. She had to lean over her desk to pull and tug the document without ripping it. 

A buzzer went off through all the office rooms. Therese soon heard the loud scraping of chairs being pulled back, papers shuffling, and the continuous deep, wisecracking voices of male employees.

George approached Therese from behind with a brown paper lunch bag. He saw the damage of the typewriter and quickly helped out. He began twisting a knob and remove a jagged metal piece object. Then he gently took out Therese’s crinkled paper and gave it back to her. 

“Gee, thanks,” Therese smiled, relieved. “I was afraid I would get fired.”

She quickly put the document away inside a drawer before getting up from her desk. George followed her down the hallway to the canteen where they were serving grilled cheese and tomato soup.

“Sorry for not coming to your Christmas party,” George mumbled, widening the brown paper bag open to pull a red apple out. “Next time I will skip our family dinner in Vermont!”

Therese set her tray down at their table in the break room and sat on a metal fold-out chair. She took her silverware and unraveled the tied napkin to lay it over her lap. Then she picked up one grilled cheese triangle to dunk the corners into her soup. She ate her food. She still had not told the Piry twins about Carol. Neither of them knew about her existence.

Human Resources was leading a young woman upstairs to give her a interview. She looked smart and pretty, dressed in a lime green color fuzzy sweater and bright yellow skirt. She was holding a Manila folder in her arms and a purse swinging around one shoulder. Her thick brown hair was parted and brushed out. A pair of thick glasses worn over her thin, angular face.

“Hm. New blood,” George said, bringing his paper milk carton close to his mouth. “She’s in for the kill, I reckon. Shark Bait.”

Therese saw the girl and couldn’t believe it. 

Genevieve Cantrell was the one going in for an interview.


	9. “Will you come get me?”

Carol was dusting off table sets at her furniture store when her assistant, Janet, appeared with the shop’s rotary phone pressed up against her chest. “You have a caller on the line,” she said.

Carol traded the feather duster for the phone to carry it back to her own personal office.

“Yes?”

“It’s me,” Therese answered.

“My darling, you sound exhausted.”

“Will you come get me?”

“Of course,” Carol smiled, staring at nothing. “I was only tidying things up before passing the keys over to Janet.” A brief pause came and went. “Is everything all right?”

“I’m fine, Carol. I’ll see you soon,” Therese responded back, hanging up.

xxxxx

“See you tomorrow?” Carol asked Janet, slipping both her arms into the sleeves of the favorable light brown fur coat.

Janet nodded. “You will.” She watched Carol jingle a ring of keys in one gloved hand. They were the shop’s only set. Janet Melrose snatched and shoved them into her black trouser suit pants pocket. “Have a goodnight, Carol. Be careful out there on the roads!”

Carol held onto her purse and retreated for the shop door. Her body soon met up with the freezing cold temperatures of the mid-January evening. Shivering, Carol headed for the pale yellow Packard through the snow and ice in a pair of low-heel flats. 

She drove carefully through the slippery streets with both hands on the wheel. Carol thought about Therese and what they should have for dinner. There was still leftovers of lamb and gravy in the Frigidaire at home.

Therese had already been waiting outside the front of the Times’ office building, shivering, like a leaf. She rubbed the tip of her nose with a crushed tissue and brightened as soon as she saw Carol pull up in view. 

Therese got herself inside the car with her satchel dropping onto the floor seat. She leaned over with Carol kissing her gently on the lips. Both women tasted like fresh snow and the car was intoxicated with perfume—sweet and heavy like a flower. 

“ _He-ey,_ ” Carol whispered, holding onto parts of Therese’s wool coat. She watched Therese blink back not saying a single word. So Carol, like usual, spoke for them. 

“Let’s go home.”


	10. “I love you.”

Carol forked a small portion of mashed potato and gravy before slipping into her mouth. She watched Therese eat some of her meat quietly from the other end of the table. Clearing her throat, she said, “I see you sent that bear away.”

“This morning, I did,” Therese answered, reaching for her napkin to wipe her face.

“That’s wonderful,” Carol smiled, her blue eyes crinkled the moment Therese’s hazel green ones glared upon them. “Isn’t it?” her voice grew small with confusion.

“Genevieve came for an interview today,” Therese explained. “She wants a job for the New York Times.”

Carol raised her eyebrows. Therese peered down at her plate of food.

“I can’t seem to get rid of her.”

“No kidding.”

xxxxx

Therese sat on top of Carol’s lap in the bedroom wearing her bright red pajamas; her arms wrapped around the older woman’s neck. Carol, dressed in a dark blue nightgown, had her own hands hooked together around Therese’s waist. Both ladies were staring at each other until Carol inched her face closer and kissed Therese softly on the lips.

“I love you,” Carol murmured.

“I love _you_.”

Carol toppled over to make Therese lay flat on her back; legs unfolding around the blonde’s hips. Therese picked her head up and pulled Carol by the neck, sighing between their mouths. Carol’s long, slender fingers overlapped Therese’s throat. She pulled their mouths apart with those golden curls dangling around her head.

xxxxx

The next morning in the office, Therese was distracted and didn’t pay attention to the reporter who was holding his coffee mug out to her with a look of utter annoyance. “Miss Belivet! Hello! Round me up another coffee please!”

Breaking away her memories of Carol last night, Therese moved quickly as she reached for John Porter’s favorite cup. She held the empty mug between her breasts along with her memo pad of notes, and several print out sheets for the daily baseball scores. Fumbling past through work station tables and office desks, Therese made it into the hallway with George Perron staring after her from his own desk, dangling a black fountain pen in his mouth.

Therese had set her things down on a table in the break room and picked up Porter’s mug. She brought it over to the sink and gave it a clean rinse before lifting the coffee pot off the burner plate to pour some in. She had spilled some on the counter just when her boss—Editor-in-Chief, Rick Atkins, announced for everyone to gather around for a morning meeting outside of his office.

Wiping her sticky, coffee hands into a sheet of paper towel, Therese dropped the crumpled tissue, and hurried out of the break room with Porter’s mug. She found his wide build leaning up against one of the doorframes with his sleeves rolled back, arms crossed over his ample chest. His thick mustache wiggled with a smile the moment he saw Therese arrive with his drink.

“‘Bout time, Belivet,” Porter grouched. He took his coffee from her and brought it close to his large, beak of a nose. 

Therese didn’t dare speak back. She left and moved far away from him as possible—standing on the other side of the circle in front of George, whose own heart was skipping a beat with glee. 

Rick Atkins soon approached with his hand on Genevieve’s shoulder. Therese stiffened at the sight of her. The girl wore a dark brown blouse with a light colored plaid skirt.

“Everyone—I would like you all to meet Eve Carson,” Mr. Atkins introduced. “Brand new to the paper business, so please, make her feel right at home.”

“Thank you,” Genevieve spoke over the small round of applause. Her eyes skimmed the circle and glowed once they fell upon Therese.


	11. “You call her ‘Bel’?”

Ten minutes later when the meeting dispersed, George and Therese both stood and watched Genevieve receive a couple polite handshakes and hellos from some of the male journalists and two other female secretaries. Therese found herself leaving; heading straight back to own her desk. She sat in front of her typewriter unsure of what to do next.

Small, abrupt knocks hitting against the framework of her own cubicle, startled her, and made her glance around to see George Perron with Genevieve.

“Eve Carson, this is our photojournalist, Therese Belivet,” George introduced.

“How exciting,” Gen gushed. “Hopefully I will get the chance to see your photography, Miss Belivet.”

Therese could feel the girl inching closer towards her. “I, um, should get back to my work,” she mumbled. George nodded and started escorting Genevieve back to the main floor to continue the rest of the tour around the Times’ building.

xxxxx

Therese grabbed a styrofoam cup of lime jello and a plastic cup of grape juice as she stood at the lunch line. Setting them both down on her tray, she carefully reached up and took her hot bowl of cheddar-broccoli soup. Showing the kitchen monitor her meal stub, he gestured for her to go ahead and proceed while she added a small plastic bag of soup crackers with her napkin wrapped silverware. 

Inside the canteen where the crowded, buzzing noises of workers had been eating from their choice of table, Therese spotted George Perron waving his hand directly to her from his own table near the coat rack and water bubbler. Genevieve was already sitting beside him, popping fluffy, golden brown crust from her peanut butter and jelly sandwich into her mouth.

George pulled a chair out for Therese to sit down. Genevieve kept eating. Setting her tray on the table, Therese parked her bottom with her stockinged legs pinned neatly together below her pleated skirt.

“What are they serving for lunch today?” George asked, playfully leaning up against Therese to look down upon her soup.

“Cheddar-broccoli,” she said, yanking the spoon out from her wrapped napkin.

“Filling.”

Therese blew some of the steam before slipping the spoonful of soup into her mouth. It tasted creamy and cheesy with fresh cooked broccoli. She found herself loving it.

“Mind if I try some?” Genevieve spoke up, reaching over to take Therese’s spoon.

Therese took a deep breath, but found herself sharing her soup, anyway. Pushing her bowl, she watched Gen take a spoonful of the dish, eyes lighting up. “This tastes great,” she said, licking her lips. “I wonder if I can get their recipe?”

“Bel doesn’t cook much,” George chuckled. “She’s all skin and bones!” he pinched her arm, teasingly.

Therese stiffened up.

“You call her ‘Bel’?” Genevieve giggled, cocking her head to one side.

“Me and my twin sister do,” George explained. “Short for Belivet...”

That’s when Therese abruptly rose from her chair at the table and made a beeline out of the lunch room. She had practically threw hereself inside the ladies’ bathroom, going straight for the porcelain sink to twist on a faucet and splash cold water on her reddening, warm face.

It had only took a moment for Genevieve to appear right beside her in the bathroom, smiling big and wide.

“Alone at last,” she said, spreading her arms out to step forward and embrace the other woman.

“Stop! Genevieve—” Therese backed away from her, chest heaving, nose flaring. 

“I love hearing you say my name, kid,” Gen giggled. She placed her hands on her hips. “Aren’t you glad we’re together again?”

“What is this? What are you doing here?” Therese gritted her teeth. “You don’t wear glasses, and your name isn’t Eve Carson!”

“So?” Genevieve scoffed. “I had to find some way to be by your side again! Think of Eve as a second chance!”

“No, this is not—I don’t want you around anymore, Genevieve. What you’re doing is crazy!”

“I love you, baby, and you can’t stop me from loving you,” Genevieve spoke soft and discreet. Stepping towards Therese now, she placed her hands on either side of her up against the concrete wall. “Tell me something—does George know you like carpet instead of wood?”

“ _Genevieve._ ”

“He doesn’t, does he?” she laughed softly, tracing a finger along Therese’s bottom lip. “So that means he doesn’t know a thing about Carol.”

“You leave her out of this,” Therese growled.

“Oh, I will, but here’s the deal: If you spill the beans, I’ll spill more. We wouldn’t want to let your precious dolly out of the closet. Let me go play ‘Eve’ and I will let you play ‘Bel.’” Genevieve smirked, tipping Therese’s chin. “Funny names we’ve got—Bel and Eve. _Believe._ Get it? I know how good you can keep your mouth shut. The choice is yours.”

Therese closed her mouth from speaking further. Genevieve had pulled away from her, smirking like a fox that had just been caught inside a chicken coop.

“That’s what I thought,” she muttered.


	12. “I’ll be ignoring her the whole time.”

Tonight, Carol was seated in front of her vanity mirror, unclasping her pair of droplet pearl earrings to put them away inside her cherrywood jewelry box. “Did Genevieve get the job?” she asked.

“Uh huh.” Therese was sitting up in bed, cutting long, rectangular strips of old magazines with a pair of sewing scissors for an upcoming craft fair contest she would be enrolling the middle of next week. Her art project was going to be a papier-mâché hot air balloon. She had already bought a bag of flour and bottle of glue for the homemade paste.

“You sound thrilled,” Carol went on, brushing her light, golden hair with a rose pink hairbrush.

“I’ll be ignoring her the whole time,” Therese said.

“Will _she_ ignore you?”

Therese couldn’t answer that. She couldn’t bring herself to talk about Gen’s phony disguise as Eve Carson, or the blackmailing, because that would only infuriate Carol and make her file a restraining order against Cantrell. Which would then give the damn girl the perfect chance to spread the news at work that Therese Belivet was in love with a woman who she had pretty much kept her very own entire existence all to herself, all because of what? Love? Protection? Yes, Carol was a human being, and had every right to live and breathe the same as the rest. But Therese didn’t want to see it like that, she didn’t want to risk it. But somebody in the end was going to get hurt no matter what.

“What are you thinking? Do you know how many times I ask you that?” Carol lowered the hairbrush on the makeup table before rising up on her slippered feet.

“I’m thinking how much I love you,” Therese replied. She stopped cutting the old yellow National Geographic to close the booklet over the pair of scissors before dropping them hard on the floor below her on the bed.


	13. “I guess we're snowed in.”

_“...Looks like we’ve got ourselves another snow storm, folks! Can you swing it? A cold blast of freezing temperatures below thirty degrees... That’s right! Frostbite! Be careful on the roads for those who are driving! Bundle up... Stay alert... Don’t die of hypothermia... We’d love to see those charming, smiling faces once more! And now for today’s lucky horse race winners which all of you will find—”_

Carol had quickly leaned over the table to switch off the radio. Therese peered up from her bowl of cereal. She was eating a mixture of crushed oats with banana chips and raisins. Swallowing, she licked a bit of milk off her lips. Carol picked up a cigarette she left on the ashtray and stuck it back in her mouth.

Therese clicked her spoon softly against the rim of her bowl. “I guess we’re snowed in,” she said. 

“Mhm,” Carol answered, blowing out smoke. “Hopefully Rindy’s school got canceled.” She stubbed the cigarette before rising up to leave.

Therese kept eating her breakfast while listening to Carol speak to Rindy in the hallway:

_“Hello, my pudding pie—did it snow a whole lot in New Jersey?”_

_...._

_“It did? Four inches? Holy moly!”_

_...._

Therese missed having the little girl around. There was never a dull moment having Rindy running all over the apartment.

_“Be good for Grandma and Grandpa—okay, sweetheart? Give them a kiss for me. Don’t play out in the snow too long. I love you, too... Bye now, my darling...”_

Carol had set the phone back in its cradle. She reappeared in the kitchen, sniffling. Therese looked at her, willingly.

xxxxx

They got dressed to go outside and shovel the driveway. Carol wanted a clear path in order to back-out. She dug the fluffy white blankets of snow out from underneath the wheels and kept throwing it behind her.

Therese stopped shoveling the front step when she heard the phone rang inside. Thinking about Genevieve, the thought of seeing her at work tomorrow made Therese wilt like a flower.

 _I won’t answer it,_ she vowed.

Carol stood by the hood of the car, pulling off a few loose curls that were sticking to her face.

“Is that the phone?” she called over. She began to move towards it.

“Wait,” Therese told her.

Carol froze and stood still with Therese staring back at her until the phone finally ended.

xxxxx

They played each other a game of chess in the living room. Carol had the black pieces. Therese had white. So far, Therese was winning. During her turn, she jumped Carol’s pawn with her knight on the wooden chessboard and took the piece.

Again, the phone rang.

Therese held her breath just as Carol picked herself up off the floor to go answer it. 

_“Yes? Hello?”_

_...._

Therese closed her eyes, hearing Carol repeat:

_“Hello? Hello? If this is some sick joke—”_

_...._

She dropped the phone hard and shuffled back into the room to witness Therese crying on the floor. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Carol soothed, bending over to collect her in her arms. Therese stood up on her socked feet; burying her face into the neckline of Carol’s cotton silk blouse. She relaxed from the warm touch of Carol’s mouth pressing along the hairline of her head; her hands rubbing along her back in circles.

“I dread going back to work tomorrow,” Therese mumbled. 

“Me too, my lovely.”


	14. “Are you hiding from me?”

Therese stood beside the bed where Carol slept the next morning. She walked towards the vanity to check herself in the mirror. She wore a solid dark brown cardigan sweater over a pale brown wool-knit sheath dress. She found a list of things wrong with her—wide forehead, boyish posture, small breasts. What did Carol see in her? What did Genevieve? Even George Perron had seen something attractive.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Carol spoke behind her from the bed, wide awake. “Do you need a ride this morning?”

Therese closed her eyes briefly in the mirror. She could hear Carol’s nails scratching her bare arm. “No, I have somebody from work,” she said. “George Perron. He has a twin sister who works at the Cloth House on West Ave.” 

“Uh huh,” Carol said, resting her cheek up against the palm of her hand.

Therese walked back towards the bed in her black kitten heel shoes. She bent over to give Carol a hug and kiss goodbye.

“Have a good day, my darling,” Carol murmured from their parting lips.

“Love you,” Therese said.

xxxx

“Mornin’ Bel,” Faith Perron greeted from the backseat of the Mercedes. “George wants you to sit in the front with him today.”

Therese settled herself inside the passenger seat with her briefcase laid on top of her lap.

“Did you lose any power yesterday?” George asked her once they started moving through the slick, slushy roads.

“No.”

“We did, for about two hours,” Faith explained. “A tree branch knocked over and fell through a power line. I was in the middle of running my sewing machine when it happened.”

“I was sorting out my baseball trophies,” George beamed.

Therese kept staring at the window, unfazed. She knew George was simply trying to impress her, but it didn’t work.

xxxx

Genevieve was already seated at her new desk with the other secretaries the moment Therese and George entered the office building. Her dark brown eyes lit up with happiness. She raised her fountain pen in mid-air. “Good morning!” she happily called out. 

“Good morning, Eve.” George was moving toward the stairs with his coat draped over his arms.

“Hi, Bel!” Genevieve added.

Therese gave her a dirty look before proceeding upstairs.

xxxx

“Where's that headshot photo of Sister Helene, Miss Belivet?” Mr. Atkins demanded, snapping his fingers at her while she fumbled and flipped through a stack of papers onto her clipboard. She had soon found the grainy photo copy of Headmistress Helene, who was staring back into the camera, cold and unsmiling. Mr. Atkins took it from her to hold it out into the light.

“There she is,” Rick Atkins chuckled. “Our cold-blooded killer.”

Walking back to her own desk, Therese found Genevieve standing around holding a steaming cup of coffee. 

“Hey, sweetie, here’s your coffee.”

“I don’t want it,” Therese snapped.

Genevieve left the room.

xxxx

Therese purposely skipped lunch to go smoke and freeze outside the back of the Times’ building instead. She could imagine both George and Genevieve eating together; wondering where in the world she went. It didn’t mean a thing to her, because she didn’t care. Her fingers shook as she stuck the cigarette back into her mouth and took a drag. She couldn’t believe this was her life now. George Perron was delusional. Genevieve Cantrell was crazy.

When Therese glanced up to see Genevieve’s dark, mousse head peak out from the stone wall, she dropped the cigarette onto the snow and cursed quietly to herself.

“Oh, there you are,” Gen said, making a sudden appearance without a jacket on. “Are you hiding from me?”

“Were you the one who kept calling the apartment yesterday?” Therese demanded. 

“You know it,” Gen said, crossing her arms over her chest. She was trying not to shiver so much, but Therese could see that she was cold. 

“Why can’t you just leave us alone?!” Therese yelled back to her.

“I can’t do that, Terry. We’ve been over this already,” Genevieve rolled her eyes. Then she remembered something. “Lonely Bear was sent back to my house later that same afternoon. How could you?”

Therese didn’t know what to say. She watched Genevieve shrug it off like it didn’t matter to her anymore and started leaving to go back inside.

Lunch was over.


	15. “Party-Pooper.”

“George invited us to the diner across the street. I said you wouldn’t mind coming along.” Genevieve informed Therese the minute she made her attempt to phone call Carol to come pick her up from the office. Her desk had been cleared off for the day. Everyone was getting ready to go home.

“Why would you do that?” Therese demanded. She clenched her hands tight at her sides.

Gen pressed one hand against her waist. “Because he likes you, and it would give us more time to spend together. But that shouldn't be a problem for you, Therese Belivet, because you live all by yourself and have nobody back home waiting for you, am I right?”

Therese opened her mouth to respond, but that’s when George stepped in the doorway with his briefcase and jacket. 

“Ladies. Are we ready?”

“We are,” Gen grinned.

xxxx

“The shop will need inspection on the 21st of this month,” Carol said, tapping the date on the calendar with an acrylic finger. She took a brief pause to let Janet write that down on her list of reminders. When she was done, she lowered her pencil and watched Carol take a step backwards in her leather pumps to glance at the grandfather clock displayed against a wall. “Received any calls for me today, Janet?”

“No, ma’am.”

Disappointed, but not surprised, Carol decided Therese was probably working late.

Janet followed Carol towards the shop entrance door all bundled up in her fur coat. Her hand was pulling her car keys out from her purse. The two women said their goodbyes to each other. Carol left the furniture shop with Therese stuck on her mind.

xxxx

At the diner across the street from their job, Genevieve was sitting at one end of the vinyl curved-shape booth with Therese sitting at the other. George was in the middle, picking up his cheeseburger out from the paper wrap inside a plastic woven basket. He took a huge bite with his elbows resting on the table wide apart.

Therese gazed down at her burger and side order of fries. Her appetite was gone, along with her tolerance for Genevieve. She had no respect for the girl. This mean, possessive side of her was getting out of hand. 

“Why are you not eating your food, Bel?” Gen was now asking her. She swirled the tip of a steak fry into her ketchup cup and chomped it clean off with her teeth.

“I’m not hungry,” Therese answered.

“You got to be,” Gen spoke between chews. “You skipped lunch, after all.”

“Bel probably wants to keep track of her figure,” George shrugged, sprinkling crumbs off his fingers. “My sister is doing the same thing.”

Gen snorted as she reached for another fry. Therese’s mind was on Carol and how much she wanted this night to end.

It got worse, because mid-through dinner, Genevieve had fiddled with the jukebox and wanted to dance. She snapped her fingers and swayed her hips to the song “Stay” by Maurice Williams & The Zodiacs. She shuffled her feet towards their booth and gestured for both George and Therese to come dance with her.

Both of them were shy and declined the offer. George kept waving his hands, while Therese was pouting into her milkshake. She soon found Gen standing beside her; picking her up in her arms.

“No, wait,” Therese started. On her feet, she found Gen’s hand sliding around her waist while entwining their fingers together; raising their hands up in the air. The girls swayed their hips along to the music. George leaned back enjoying the performance. He had never seen such a thing before—two females dancing together. 

Therese broke free from a mid-spin and glared hard at the checkered floor. “I would like to go home, now,” she said. 

“Party-Pooper,” Gen snickered.

xxxx

“Boy, that Eve Carson is something else,” George chuckled the minute Genevieve was dropped off first. He shook his head behind the wheel while Therese was staring out the window, all angry, tired, and mute. “I’ve never met anyone like her!”

 _Just take me home,_ Therese was thinking. _Take me home so I can check to make sure Carol’s all right._

George got Therese home safely, but took notice that the lights were on inside the drawn curtains and the yellow Packard in the driveway. Confused, he watched Therese scramble out from the passenger seat with her work bag swinging through one wrist. “Were you expecting company tonight, Bel?”

“Yes,” Therese answered feebly. She slammed the car door shut.

“Why didn’t you say something? I feel like such a dud!”

“It’s alright, really,” Therese lied. “Night, George.” She ran toward the apartment building, flumbing for her house key.

Closing and locking the front door shut behind her, Carol approached Therese in the foyer, wearing her plaid robe, holding a tea cup and saucer.

“Darling,” she greeted warmly. “They have you working late this evening, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” Therese stammered. Once she dropped her bag on the floor between her feet, she wrestled her arms out of her coat; finding Carol moving towards her; leaning down for a kiss. Therese pecked her on the lips; staring up into her daunting steel-blue eyes. 

“Are you hungry?”

She had nothing to eat today. She was starved! Famished!

“Therese?”

 _Yes, that’s right,_ Therese blinked back tears of joy. _That’s my name! Therese. Not Terry, not Bel..._

“I am,” she finally found words to say.


	16. “Come over here and hold me.”

The craft fair Therese enrolled herself was being held at the St. Joseph’s catholic school for boys. The event was located inside the gymnasium. Therese sat with her art project at a table on the wide, faded basketball court. She gave the judges a shy, polite smile when they approached her with their pens and clipboards. They nodded at the papier-mâché before scribbling something down and continue making their way around the court to admire other art. 

Carol walked through the double doors in her black felt hat and cream fleece coat. No matter how much she tried to blend in, she simply stood out from everyone’s basic solid, plaid, wool skirts and business suits. She gazed around the gym; removing her gloves and stuffing them into her purse until eventually she spotted Therese at her table next to a young girl with a charcoal pencil drawing of an army soldier.

“You didn’t have to come here,” Therese muttered when Carol was close enough within earshot. She watched her soft, pleasant face quickly transform with mixed hurt and confusion.

“Of course I did,” Carol spoke at last. She gave the girl with the charcoal drawing a polite hello before staring back at Therese. “I wanted to support you!”

“Did you find parking all right?”

“Uh huh...” Carol gazed around at the other contestants with their art displays. She saw a lot of oil paintings, sketch drawings, clay pottery, and a baby mobile made out of chicken wire and tinfoil. “Look at all the neat art!”

Therese lowered her gaze and held the side of her arm; scratching the sweater’s green wool. She shivered from the lack of heat inside the gym and waited for the judging to start.

She did not win first place, but was second runner up. The girl with the charcoal pencil drawing of her late-brother had won and got a gold medal with **1st Place** engraved. Therese got a silver one made out of plaster.

“You did it,” Carol beamed, sliding her purse over one shoulder as they left the gym together. 

“I got second place,” Therese pointed out.

“Still nice of them to keep your art display at the public library.”

Therese didn’t say anything. She rubbed her thumbs along the blue ribbon that held the silver medal together and decided to cut it off with scissors and keep the silk material for something else.

One of the windows to the apartment had been smashed with a rock the moment they got home. Carol instructed Therese not to step on any glass as they slowly made their way into the living room. It was not just the window, but all the furnished chairs and the coffee table had been knocked over. Therese’s music sheets and negative prints were scattered everywhere on the rug. Carol’s curtains were torn and ripped in ragged tatters. The record player was lying facedown near the bookshelf. The couch was covered with cotton stuffing from the slashed, gutted out tasseled throw pillows. No valuables were missing, however. Just mishandled. All except—

Carol stepped over a leg of a chair to get to her snuff box, which had been touched and her stash of cigarettes were missing. She cried out with frustration before shoving the wooden box onto the floor.

“I-I’m calling the police,” Therese stammered, knowing exactly who did it. She couldn’t believe Genevieve. She went for the telephone and reported a break-in.

The police officer asked them questions—where they were, what time it happened, any injuries, any missing items, which rooms were trashed, etc. Therese had answered most of the report. Carol just sat on the bottom step, smoking a fresh cigarette the officer gave her. The only question Therese couldn’t answer was— _who was the monster that would do such a thing?_

“Ladies, you know where to find me,” the officer concluded, tipping the bill of his cap. “Please call the station for anything. I do apologize for the damages...”

“Thank you, Officer,” Therese mumbled. She showed him out and quickly closed the door shut behind him; fumbling with the chain and lock.

Carol blew smoke, balancing the cigarette between two, shaky fingers. She was trying very hard not to burst into tears. It was all just stuff, after all. At least nobody was hurt. _My pride, maybe,_ she thought, placing the cigarette back between her lips. Her mascara was running. She picked herself up—like an old lady—as soon as Therese came back.

She moved and bumped a flower vase with the left ankle of her boot and made it roll away.

“Come over here and hold me.” Carol tossed the crushed cigarette butt on the messy floor and spread her arms out. Therese hurried over and slipped into the older woman’s embrace; her nose burying into the white porcelain skin of her collarbone.


	17. “This is all my fault.”

“I want to go somewhere. It’s not safe here.” Therese gazed at Carol, who was leaning down, kissing a few tears rolling down the younger woman’s cheekbones before she wiped them off with the pads of her red painted thumbs. Carol was crying, too. Pressing her shaky lips hard against Therese’s cold, soft ones. She was nodding her head along with full agreement.

The apartment no longer felt home to them. The space they shared together—their sanctuary—was destroyed. Exposed. Broken. It seemed like their only true domain had turned its back and left them on their own.

“I’ll make a few calls. See what’s available,” Carol finally spoke, swallowing hard. She held Therese’s face and kissed her once more before pulling away, feeling her partner’s arms loosen around her waist.

As soon as Carol left to go ring up a few hotels, Therese went upstairs to go pack a suitcase. Genevieve’s face haunted her mind the entire time and it was that moment she wanted the girl to be dead.

The desire was morbid, but enough was enough! The teddy bear was annoying—she had sent it back. But then working for the exact same newspaper and blackmailing became too much. And now, smashing windows with rocks, breaking and entering her home to mess around with her and Carol’s stuff—that was it! That was the last straw! That was just plain childish, twisted, and mean!

xxxx

With it still being offseason, they had managed to rent a room overnight at a hotel for a surprisingly low price. Carol handed over the bellhop his tip after he set the luggage down. He bowed with full appreciation before leaving the suite with the double doors shutting behind him.

This moment felt all very too familiar. Therese had her coat draped over her arms and carried it towards the wardrobe closet to go hang it up. The only difference between tonight’s stay-in at a fancy hotel and the one back when she and Carol were in the beginning stages of their romance, was that this time—they had no choice in the matter. This time it wasn’t for a road trip. It was a retreat. They were frightened for their lives.

“Doesn’t this bring back some memories?” Carol plopped herself on the edge of the yellow-cream comforter bed with a dreary look on her face. Therese thought of Tommy Tucker and wanted to cry all over again, but instead she blurted out,

“This is all my fault.”

“How could it possibly?”

“I’m the one who brought Genevieve into our lives. I’m the one who invited her to that stupid party.”

Carol chuckled, then paused. “You think she’s the one who broke in?”

“Yes. I know it’s her.” 

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.”

“You don’t know her like I do!”

Carol raised her eyebrows. Therese flinched back, realizing how wrong that just sounded. She took a short, frustrated sigh, and went on—

“Genevieve is not who she says she is. She has changed.”

“Darling, you’re not making any sense. Has Genevieve hurt you in the past?”

“Well, no, not exactly—” Therese lost her words again. She was too busy twisting four of her fingers. Carol was losing her patience and was growing agitated with the whole thing.

“When you find your voice again, please let me know,” she said bitterly. “But in the meantime—I’m going to make a few more calls. I want to let Abby and Rindy know they can’t reach us home tonight.”

“Carol,” Therese replied, her voice small and tight. She watched her snatch the rotary telephone angrily off the nightstand to lay it on her lap before pressing the headpiece up against her ear.


	18. “Do you think we made the front page?”

Therese bent over in front of the bathroom sink and spat toothpaste before scooping water into her mouth with her left cupped hand to swirl and rinse out her brushed teeth. She could hear Carol's soft murmurs from the other side of the suite. Carol had said goodnight to her daughter before she spoken to Abby next. Abby heard the news about the break-in and had offered the ladies to spend tomorrow night at her place instead of paying extra for the hotel. Switching the sink faucet off, Therese grabbed a hand towel that was hung over one of the metal rings and patted her mouth before pulling the silver beaded chain to switch off the beam of lights. 

Carol was just saying goodbye on the phone the moment Therese appeared and headed straight towards her own twin comforter bed in her rose embroidered pajamas. "...You get plenty of rest, sweetheart...All right... see you then, Abby. Goodnight." Dropping the phone back in its cradle, Carol stared at it for a good ten seconds until she briefly glanced over towards her partner, who was busy moving two pillows aside to unravel a sharp corner before smooth-tucking the linen that made the mattress.

"Abby says we can stay with her for the next couple of nights." Carol untied the laces to her pair of boots before lining them neatly underneath.

“That was nice of her,” Therese answered. She was waiting for Carol to stop her from climbing into bed to make the offer of sleeping with her tonight— _like the last time_ —but Carol turned her back around to move and grab her nightwear to change into. 

xxxx

With jobs and coworkers both swirling inside their minds, Carol and Therese got themselves all dressed and packed and ready to leave the suite the next morning. They didn’t have time to order any breakfast, but agreed to grab something on the road. Still shaken up from last night’s scare of the apartment and the touchy subject on Genevieve, they barely spoke a word to each other and grew silent as they took the elevator downstairs to the main lobby. 

“Thank you for staying with us at the Lamont Hotel,” a gray haired gentleman spoke behind the front desk. “Would you join us for breakfast?”

Carol politely dismissed the invite. She tossed her fountain pen and checkbook back inside her clutch purse before snatching her gloves off the counter.

They still had enough time to buy hot coffee and white powdered doughnuts inside a bakery near The New York Times building. Therese couldn’t enjoy her meal as much with what was going on. Carol sucked powder off her ring finger before sipping out the rest of her cream & sugared coffee in a styrofoam cup.

“ _Hey_ ,” she spoke sternly, making Therese gaze up from the green vinyl booth.

“What?” Therese murmured.

“We’re going to get through this.”

“Sure.”

“I mean every word of it. You and I can get through anything, Therese. We are invincible.”

At last, a smile finally placed the young woman’s lips. Carol winked at her and then made a gesture for the two of them to get a move on.

“Abby and I will pick you up,” Carol informed, watching Therese climb out of the Packard with her office briefcase. “I recommend not telling people what happened.”

“Carol—I work for a newspaper company!” Therese shouted. She shivered as she stood outside the car on the sidewalk in front of the annex building with her breath floating in the cold March air.

Carol’s face reddened behind the wheel. “Do you think we made the front page?”

“A column, maybe,” Therese sighed. If she kept talking, she was going to be three minutes late. She gave a quick wave goodbye and hurried inside.

A hot rush of heat welcomed her on the first floor. Two or three secretaries greeted her behind their desks. Therese glanced towards a silver haired woman pulling out some papers from a file cabinet below Genevieve’s workspace. Genevieve was not sitting at her desk. She was not there. 

Therese went to go hang up her coat and then moved quickly down the hallway. Her speed had bumped into George who quickly caught her by the arms. “Whoops—be careful, Bel!” he exclaimed. Then his face softened. “Listen, I drove to your apartment to go pick you up. I saw that somebody had smashed—”

“Where's Eve?” Therese demanded.

“Eve?” George repeated. “She called out sick this morning.”


	19. “Harge? I doubt it.”

Abby brought one end of her cigarette close to her lips on the park bench she shared with Carol and glared ahead at the melting snowbanks that were covering parts of the grassy fields of Central Park. The duck pond was in full view with thin layers of ice floating on the glossy black surface of the water. March was the month between winter and spring with enduring bright sunlight and chilly weather. Carol watched a young boy throwing a stick to his Jack Russell terrier dog through her pair of sunglasses and thought how life could be so precious and cruel at the same time. The boy wore a tweed cap with a pair of knickers and high socks. He yanked one end of the stick in the dog's mouth and started to play a game of Tug-of-War with the animal.

"I can't thank you enough for hiring a locksmith," Carol spoke low and discreet. Leaving the furniture store early, she had spent the rest of the afternoon with Abby. They had managed to get Carol's house key remade and a spare one for Therese. A brand new window for the apartment would also be paid for and installed. The damages would be fixed, but the fear of burglary and harm still lingered Carol's mind and tarnished her soul.

"Any word from the police?" Abby asked.

"I think they've moved on."

"Figures. You can't trust pigs in the city. Maybe it was that lousy ex-husband of yours?" 

"Harge? I doubt it." Carol shifted on the bench.

Silence fell between the women again. A cool breeze came and went that made Carol shiver inside her red wool coat. The boy and the dog were long gone. The park remained bare and empty. Carol tapped cigarette ashes below the ground with a slender finger and sat up straighter. Abby took several puffs and smoothed out her flannel housecoat.

"Therese thinks Genevieve's the one who broke-in the apartment."

"The same girl who left a teddy bear outside your door? The one who just recently joined the Times?"

"That's right.”

"Well, whoever broke-in, must really like your Parliaments."

The two old friends did a couple of more errands in town before they went to go pick up Therese from work. Abby held onto the teal leather steering with two gloved hands with Carol seated in the passenger seat. She greeted hello with a wiggle of her fingers while Therese yanked on the silver door handle of the backseat to slide herself inside the convertible.


	20. “Do you like my hair, Therese?”

Carol felt more at home with Abby than Therese did. The ex-lovers shared a history she could never be a part of. Past memories on certain names, places, events. Therese respected Carol's friendship with Abby, but that didn't mean she understood it. She felt like an outsider while she boredly listened to their old stories throughout dinner and their card game of Bridge right after. It was the mention of peach cobbler for dessert when Therese decided she was too tired and wanted to go straight to bed.

"I'll be with you shortly," Carol told her, laying a card facedown on the table once Abby arrived with the cobbler in a square tin pan. Abby muttered something under her breath that made Carol laugh, but Therese was already halfway up the stairs and was too far away to hear what she said.

Inside Abby's spare bedroom, Therese was lying on her back with her hand resting on her stomach, trying to fall asleep, but her thoughts on Genevieve were too vivid and the muffled laughter of both Carol and Abby downstairs were too loud. She would toss and turn herself in different sleeping positions, but it was no use. The brooding, oil paintings of Abby's late parents nailed to one side of the wall seemed to glare down at her every move, and the bed, itself, was much too small and stiff.

To her, it felt like centuries when Carol finally came up for bed. She was all smiles with rosy cheeks and sparkly eyes. Therese realized Carol was drunk. She lost her footing and bumped into the sock drawer; knocking over the lampshade off the ceramic base. Carol giggled as she readjusted the shade back on, accordingly. Then she kicked off her slippers and pulled one corner of the sheets.

"Carol," Therese spoke her name in the darkness. She could smell the fruity alcohol on the woman's breath. Carol hummed back for Therese to continue. The only sounds were the rustling of her hands pulling layers of linen and feet sliding underneath.

"How long are we going to stay here?"

The question rose and lingered above their heads.

"We juss got here," Carol slurred back. "Abby's been a dear to us."

Therese said no more. She could feel the heavyweight of Carol’s arm on top of her hipbone. The blonde fell asleep with Therese trembling—not from the cold, but for the fact their lives were spilling out from the seams.

xxxx 

Abby waited outside in her convertible the next morning when Therese approached, all dressed and ready for work. She placed her office briefcase on the carpet floor before she slid herself right into the passenger seat. Abby had the heater on full blast with the car engine running.

"Good morning," she greeted the young woman.

"Morning," Therese replied.

They pulled out of the driveway and got on the road into town. Neither of them had much to say, but Carol's name was brought up soon enough.

"How many drinks did Carol have last night?”

"Four glasses of sherry," Abby shrugged, sheepishly.

"You didn't bother stopping her?" anger rose the back of Therese's throat.

"Carol is a big girl, Therese. She can make her own decisions for herself.”

Therese fell quiet and thought of Carol waking up to a headache. Would she feel well enough to handle a full shift at the furniture shop? Not likely.

Genevieve was back at her desk with her hair dyed platinum blonde. She had a small group of secretaries circled around her, admiring the significant color. Therese dropped a folder of papers below her feet the moment she took sight. Shaken up, she bent over and quickly gathered all the tossed papers to tuck them back neatly inside a manila folder.

"What do you think of Eve's hair?" George chuckled, slipping some of his pudding into his mouth during lunch break. 

Therese watched Gen stand and wait in line with a meal tray in her hands. She was unrecognizable from the back. Therese couldn't believe it was the same person.

By the time she sat down with them, the same question was asked again:

"Do you like my hair, Therese?"

"Looks nice," she lied through her teeth. She thought about the mess in the apartment, the mess that Gen made.

Reading her mind, George brought the subject up again. He wanted to know where Therese was staying for the time being.

"A friend," she explained, fiddling with the plastic straw she had inside her open carton of milk.

"What happened?"

"A burglar broke into Bel's home the other night," George informed, scraping more vanilla pudding from inside the plastic cup with his spoon.

"How awful," Genevieve tsked. She leaned over to brush her fingers along Therese's wrist. "I pray to God they catch the nasty little bugger!”


	21. “I wouldn’t go anywhere with you.”

“Mr. Atkins would like to have a word with you,” one of the secretaries, Kitt Jameson, informed Therese after lunch break. Therese got up from her desk and wondered what she did wrong. She stood in front of his door and knocked a few times.

“Come in,” he called her over.

Therese pushed her way inside the room to find Mr. Atkins sitting at his desk clicking the green marble cap to his fountain pen with his thumbnail. 

“Miss Belivet, have a seat,” he offered the empty chair in front of him.

“I prefer to stand, sir,” Therese murmured.

“I heard about your apartment. Are you going to be alright?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be fine.” A muscle twitched from her jawbone. She was so angry, so fed up with everyone and everything that was happening to her. 

“Of course you will. Would you like some time off? I could give you the rest of the afternoon—”

“No, sir, that won’t be necessary,” she cut him off. “I would like to keep working right now...”

“Very well, Miss Belivet. Off you go,” Mr. Atkins dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

Therese left his office in such a hurry, she made a few heads turn from their typewriters. Genevieve had been waiting for her back at her workspace invading her personal space and belongings. She had a clipboard in her hands and a concerning look on her face.

“What did Atkins say?” she asked.

“That’s none of your business!”

“You look like you could go for some hard liquor. Let me take you out tonight.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere with you,” Therese snapped.

Genevieve’s eyes hardened. Her smile stretched wider, making Therese think of clowns at the circus. “You better not hurt my feelings, honey, because I can leave this room and tell everyone your deep, dark secret. Reveal Carol and send you on your merry way to shock therapy!”

Therese quickly accepted Gen’s invite to go have drinks with her after work. When it was time to leave, she was able to give Abby a ring to tell her not to pick her up. 

“Why?” Abby spoke through the other line. She sounded more confused than upset. 

“I-I’m going to be—I was invited to a dinner party tonight,” Therese stammered. She could feel hot tears brimming through her eyelids with Gen standing close behind her in the hallway.

“I’ll let Carol know,” Abby was saying now. Her voice sharpened. “Guess we’ll have stuffed peppers and listen to the McIvers Mysteries without you.” She now hung up, cutting the other line dead.

Therese slowly put the phone back into its cradle, wiping tears off her cheeks. Genevieve was holding her coat out to her. “Here.” Therese snatched it and had such a hard time putting her arms through the sleeves. 

xxxx

Carol was wiping bell pepper seeds off her hands with a dishrag when Abby appeared in the tiny, stainless steel red kitchen. “We’re not picking up Therese,” she said flatly.

“We’re not?” Carol frowned. 

“She’ll be at a dinner party tonight.” Abby snorted as she walked over and grabbed the bread knife to cut a loaf of fresh bread she had just recently bought at the market.


	22. “She’s toast.”

“I can finally take these glasses off!” Genevieve exclaimed, removing Eve’s pair of eyewear off her shiny, sweaty face. She laid them down beside her glass of beer on the bar table next to a pouty Therese. Gen picked up her cold, alcoholic beverage and slurped the foam loudly, causing a few turning heads from blue-collared workers—husbands, sons, brothers, nephews. She paid no attention to any of them and nudged for Therese to go ahead and take a sip of her beer. 

Therese shook her head. She held onto her red wool coat draped around crossed arms and sulked over the fact that she wasn’t having dinner with Carol and Abby right now. She was not spending the evening hearing tonight’s new story of McIvers Mysteries on the radio. Instead, she was dragged to a low end part of the city with a mentally insane woman.

“You know what your problem is?” Genevieve questioned, giving Therese’s arm another nudge with her hand. “You’re too wound up all the friggin’ time! Where’s the fun in that? Huh?” Again, she swatted Therese’s arm and started pulling locks of her platinum blonde hair. “I mean, look what I’ve done to my hair! I bleached it just for you! Like Carol! I thought maybe if I looked like her, smoked like her, that would satisfy you...” she pulled out the stolen Parliaments out of her purse on the table and began lighting herself up with a zippo.

Therese watched her take a long drag; blowing smoke out from the corner of her mouth. She started speaking in a low, sultry tone of voice, _“Darling...”_ Now Genevieve was trying to sound like Carol and the whole mockery of it was too much. 

“Cut that out,” Therese spoke, lip quivering. “Stop it right now!”

_“Oh, darling, it’s me,”_ Genevieve went on speaking as “Carol” which included flipping her hair back.

“You’re a rotten person, Genevieve Cantrell,” Therese murmured. “How do you sleep at night?”

“Easy,” Gen responded back in her own voice. “I just lay my head on my pillow, close my eyes, and dream of you...” she reached for Therese’s glass and brought it close to her face. “Now drink up, buttercup!”

Therese pushed the beer glass away, which made Genevieve deliberately spill some onto her skirt. 

“Hey! You ladies settle down over there!” the bartender called over from the other side of the counter, witnessing the entire thing.

“Gee, Terry, I’m sorry—” Genevieve began to speak with a stifled giggle. “Lemme get you a napkin...” she snapped her fingers above her head. 

Therese couldn’t stand another minute longer. She got off her vinyl stool and marched herself across the bar towards the exit door.

“Wait, honey, don’t be mad at me!” Genevieve pleaded, running along behind her. She outstretched her arm to grab Therese’s shoulder. Therese twirled around to face her, shouting:

_“Don’t touch me! Don’t you ever touch me! You hear me? I hate you! I wish I never met you! I wish for you to get out of my life, you twisted, cold-blooded bitch!”_

A brief, awkward moment of silence exchanges between them that leaves the entire evening an ugly, permanent scar.

xxxx

Abby and Carol were nestled on each side of the couch with empty, scraped dinner plates on their laps, listening closely to the fatal screaming of Scarlett Robbins coming out from the dial radio on top of the mantelpiece. Minty McIvers’ love interest was being chased through the Chicago streets by her attacker. Her screams were cut short from the program’s theme song of horns and ear splitting violins. 

_“Looks like Scarlett is in a pickle! Will she be able to make it out alive? Stay tune for more McIvers Mysteries on the following of next week’s show! And now to hear from our sponsor of Calvin’s Cornflakes Cereal!”_

“She’s toast,” Abby said, picking her nails. 

“You think so?” Carol chuckled. She reached for Abby’s dinner plate to balance it on top of hers. She then carried the plates to soak them inside the kitchen sink. When Carol switched the metal faucet, releasing a stream of hot water running, the front door opened and closed along with Abby’s faint voice greeting Therese in the living room. Excited, Carol switched off the water and wiped her hands on her dress. She hurried back over to find a tired, troublesome looking Therese, standing before her.

“Hey you.” Carol walked towards her and leaned for a kiss. Therese barely moved her mouth once their lips touched. “How was the dinner party?” her angel reeked of alcohol—had Therese been drinking?

“The party was fine.” Therese now pulled themselves apart and turned for the stairs. 

“Not so fast,” Abby called to her, sternly.

“I’m going to bed.” Therese slid her hand up on the stair banister, placing one heel on the bottom step.

“I’ll come right up,” Carol told her. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Therese mumbled. She could feel them watching her move up the stairs with her shoulders slouched.

“What gives?” Abby scoffed the moment she and Carol were alone again.

“These couple of weeks have certainly taken a toll on us. On Therese, especially. She won’t tell me anything. She won’t reach out. I don’t know what to do anymore. I think I might be losing her, Abby.” Carol rubbed the nape of her neck.


	23. “Carol, please.”

Faint, muffled voices along with pleasant, warm laughter were coming from downstairs the next morning. Therese shifted her body under the covers and found the side where Carol slept empty. The curtains in the spare bedroom had been drawn from the window to allow cloudy sunlight seep and spill through. Squinting her eyes open, Therese grabbed the leather strap of her wristwatch she left laying on the wooden nightstand and checked the time. It was 8:09 AM. She had overslept and was late for work.

The voices and clicking sounds of chinaware being rummaged and touched were growing louder by the second Therese was moving down the steps dressed in a white button-down blouse and tight flannel brown pencil skirt. She found a young couple seated in the living room with biscuits and cups of herbal tea. Abby was standing by the mantelpiece with her hands cupping her elbows. Carol was seated on the edge of the square floral print foot stool wearing a beige sheath dress and matching heeled pumps. She perked up the moment she took sight of Therese.

Abby stared across the room with both guests turning their heads around. They greeted Therese with formal politeness. She nodded back in return. She did not know them, but she reckoned they were friends of Abby’s from somewhere. Carol eagerly stood up from the padded stool, walking over taking Therese’s cool hands in hers.

“Good morning,” she beamed. “I was starting to think you’d sleep through the whole day.”

“The office,” Therese murmured, pulling away from her grasp. “I’m late—”

“Darling, it’s Saturday,” Carol soothed. “You’re off, today, remember?”

That meant her night with Genevieve was on a Friday. Therese was having trouble keeping track of her days of the week. It felt like these horrific moments with Genevieve seemed to be merging more and more into one giant, scary nightmare.

xxxx

In the afternoon, Abby drove them to the Spring Market being held downtown to look at the flowers, jars of jelly, fresh produce, and handmade soaps. Therese couldn’t enjoy the event as much, because she felt somewhat distracted and paranoid throughout the entire time—she kept searching through the crowds of people—thinking she would spot Genevieve any given moment. It was sad how much the girl invaded her mind. Her behavior disturbed Carol deeply till it reached the point where she had to drag Therese away from Abby at a fruit stand to speak to her privately.

“What’s the matter with you?”

Therese stared at Carol, whose face looked ready to break down and cry. She looked so vulnerable and defeated with her lips trembling and eyelashes beaded with tears.

“Nothing,” Therese spoke up, peering down at their feet.

“Don’t lie to me,” Carol half-whispered, her mouth pressing firm together. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Pretending everything’s normal when clearly it's not,” Carol’s voice shook with deep grief and emotion. “You’ve been utterly cold and distant. I’m at my wits end with you..." She reached inside her clutch purse for a tissue and then dabbed her eyes. Therese nervously watched Carol angrily toss the tissue back inside the purse.

“We should head back,” she whispered.

“This whole thing is about Genevieve, isn’t it?” Carol demanded. "The phone calls, the late hours..."

“Carol, please.”

“Are you and her... involved?”

“Of course not— _how could you even say that?_ ” Therese exclaimed.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Thanks for running off on me, ladies!” Abby now appeared with a woven basket filled with raw beets, lettuce, and carrots. She stood between Carol and Therese, peering at them suspiciously. “Well, damn. Am I interrupting something?”


	24. “You’re not telling me everything, Therese.”

“What’s the matter with you two?” Abby repeated herself, stalling the green convertible in a long waiting line of traffic. “Clearly, something happened. You’ve been crying, Carol, I can tell.”

“I’m fine,” Carol warbled, pressing her knuckles against her lips to keep them from trembling. “Let’s turn on the radio.”

Abby now reached over and twisted a dial, allowing The Swallows to croon their way out from the car speakers. Therese glanced up from the vinyl backseat, picking at her nails. How badly she wanted to tell both Carol and Abby the truth! How could she, when Genevieve practically had her by the throat these days, threatening her to share her secret life with another woman to the men and women she worked with everyday at the office. Therese would lose her job. Carol would end up losing hers at the furniture store. Without jobs, there would be no money. No money, meant no food or clothes. Doctors would separate them and lock them both somewhere far and isolated, giving out the full treatment of shock therapy Genevieve had sickeningly mentioned.

xxxx

Therese was sitting on the edge of the guest bed, lost in her thoughts, when Carol approached her with a teacup and saucer. She carefully set the drink on the table beside the reading lamp before taking a seat next to the troubled woman. The springs from the mattress groaned underneath their weight. 

“Good news,” Carol spoke softly, picking up Therese’s hand to hold it with hers. “The locksmith Abby hired wrote us a note that said all the locks on the doors to the apartment are changed with a brand new window installed. We can go home tomorrow.”

Therese remained quiet. She would’ve enjoyed this piece of information if she could figure out a way to get rid of Genevieve for good. But she was still around, invading her life. It was too late for wishful thinking. The girl had caused so much damage and drama that left Therese scarred for a long time to come.

A sad noise came out from the back of Carol’s throat that made Therese hold her breath. “I thought that would cheer you up. Aren’t you happy to know?”

Therese nodded, staring longingly into Carol’s grayish-blue eyes. She lowered her gaze on the woman’s mouth and wanted to kiss her and forget everything. Therese found herself leaning over on the guest bed with Carol pulling away. She was still upset from their private exchange at the Spring Market and not even kisses could fix that.

“You’re not telling me everything, Therese,” Carol said, accusingly, rising back up to stand on her feet.

“I’m not having an affair with Genevieve!” Therese shot back. She sat there with her body shivering. She knew that wasn’t the answer Carol was going for, but again, she couldn’t say a damn word about blackmailing with electric chairs and needles popping through her mind. Therese waited and watched Carol nervously flip her hair back before letting out a defeated sigh. 

“Dinner should be ready soon,” she mumbled, leaving her partner alone again in the guest room.


	25. “Home.”

The next morning on Easter Sunday, Abby stood outside her driveway patting the hood of the 1949 Packard with both Carol and Therese seated inside. “Call for anything,” she told them, but her eyes were fixed on Carol, who blew her a kiss in return. Therese turned her head around to look out the window. She soon felt the slow movement of wheels backing out; hearing the heavy rubber tires crunching up gravel and sand. Abby waved them goodbye with a burning cigarette wedged between two fingers. Carol beeped the horn for good measure before taking off.

Most stores in town were closed for the religious holiday. Therese reached into the backseat to grab the picnic basket filled with food Abby had made them for the trip home. She took out a plastic wrapped peanut butter & jelly sandwich and offered a spare one to Carol. Carol took hers and held it along the steering wheel. Between stops in front of red traffic lights, she unpeeled the plastic and popped pieces of bread into her mouth.

xxxx

“Would you like to bring back some dessert home, Carol?” Rindy’s grandmother asked the gay ex-wife and mother, who had been watching her cut two slices of carrot cake inside the spacious wide kitchen.

“Thank you, Jennifer,” Carol spoke softly. Both she and Therese had decided to stop by the Airds’ residence for a quick visit on their trip back to New York. “I thought maybe Rindy would like to come along and spend the night?” Through the sealed kitchen window, she could hear the faint voices of both her daughter and Therese playing outside the front yard.

“Are you out of your mind?” Harge demanded, who was now walking in the room with steady, low footsteps that made Carol feel timid and shy. Harge stood by the doorframe—filling up most of the space—dressed in a brand new suit and tie he ordered at Alexander’s department store.

“Dear—” Mrs. Aird began.

“Carol will not be taking Rindy anywhere! Especially to spend a night at a place where some maniac broke into! It’s out of the question!”

“There’s no need to shout, Harge,” Mrs. Aird hushed her son. 

Harge fell quiet now, fuming. He watched Carol lower her gaze with tears in her eyes. She was sad now. Good. He was going for that, because he wanted to put her back in her place and remind her who was in charge. Which parent was the one who had sole custody of their daughter.

Abandoning the carrot cake, Carol went outside to say goodbye to Rindy. She walked through the freshly cut, manicured lawn to her daughter, who was in the middle of playing a game of bean bag toss with Therese. Rindy was all dolled up in her Easter dress and buckled shoes. She held up a small cloth pillow made out of beans for her mother to take. Carol took it and tossed it near a cardboard cutout hole. She missed and made it plop a few inches in front. 

“You almost got it, Mommy,” Rindy beamed.

Carol laughed weakly and scooped up the little girl. She gave her a few tightening hugs and readjusted the white straw hat worn over her head.

“Did you have a nice Easter, sweetheart?” Carol asked.

“Yeah."

“Mommy and Aunt Tez got to go home now. Be good for Grandpa and Grandma, okay?” Carol whispered, kissing the child between the eyes.

Rindy loosened her grip once her mother set her back down on the grass. A breeze came by and knocked over the straw hat.

xxxx

The apartment looked the same like it had always been, but had a different perspective for both women.

Carol slid her brand new key into the lock while Therese stood behind her, staring at the living room window on her right. The broken window now was good as new with clear, impact-resistant glass.

The door swung open with Carol leading them inside. She dropped her keys and purse down on the small wooden table inside the foyer, looking around her surroundings. Besides the locksmith, Abby also hired a housemaid to tidy up all of the rooms.

Therese followed Carol through the hallway, speechless how everything was neat and well put back together. She felt like a complete stranger in someone else's house!

“Home,” Carol muttered.


	26. "Alright, I want the full story."

Therese sat alone at her desk in front of her typewriter during work the next afternoon when Genevieve approached her from behind. She stood beside her holding a packet of loose papers dressed in a navy scoop neck blouse and matching pencil skirt. Her bob-styled hair was colored back to its original shade of brown, but that didn't count for anything, because Therese was in no mood to be around her.

"May I borrow your stapler, Bel?"

"Don't call me that."

Gen waited as she watched Therese lean over to open the top drawer. Lifting the stapler, Genevieve took it from her and then quickly shoved the desk drawer shut; slamming Therese's fingers.

A cry came out of Therese Belivet that sounded awful and unforgiveable. She held onto her red, throbbing hand, trying to fight back a few stinging, hot tears. Peering up, she caught a smirk on Gen's face before she witnessed the girl slapping herself across the face to give out a few earsplitting wails and screams that could most certainly frighten and shake up the whole newspaper company.

George Perron and Jeffrey Hodges rushed over to the scene and stopped dead in their tracks to take sight of a crying Eve Carson covering half her pink face with a wide-eyed, open mouthed Therese Belivet, seated behind her desk, holding onto her fingers. The sight was unimaginable. There could only be one explanation.

Less than a minute, Therese was called in by Mr. Atkins, himself, with a sniffling Gen, standing beside his desk. Mr. Atkins was holding out a box of tissues for Genevieve, who was plucking them and blowing her nose hard into them. He started rubbing his forehead while Therese sat in front of him, wordlessly. She kept her eyes on the girl that was ruining her life. Her fingers were still stinging from the hard blow of the drawer. Gen had done it again!

"Alright, I want the full story," Mr. Atkins sighed deeply, sitting on the edge of his desk with his legs spread, necktie loose, and his argyle sweater vest untucked and twisted. Earlier, he had been fooling around with secretary Alice Sherwood, for an hour in the coat room. She was already back in her area, reapplying her lipstick, while her boss had to deal with this mess. Therese had no clue about the fling. Neither did anyone else. Rick Atkins acknowledged for Gen to go ahead and explain what happened.

"I came to give Bel, I mean, Miss Belivet, her stapler back," Genevieve began softly, "And I found her asleep at her desk. I know sleeping is against the rules, so I tried waking her up, and that’s when she got angry at me. Miss Belivet slapped me!"

"I would never fall asleep during office hours!" Therese cried. "I didn't slap you!"

"Calm down now," Mr. Atkins ordered. He rubbed his forehead again. "Pardon me for saying so, Miss Belivet, but you have been looking rather drained and sour these past couple of weeks. I'm guessing it has to do with the stress from the break-in, but that doesn't give you a pass to sleep during your shift. I'll let that slide, just this once. As for the slapping, I find it hard to believe Therese would lay a hand on you, Miss Carson. She's the sort of gal who's afraid of her own shadow!"

"Look at her right hand," Genevieve snapped. "See how red her fingers are?!"

"You crushed my fingers with the top drawer!" Therese cried.

"Show me your hand, Miss Belivet," Mr. Atkins spoke softly. Therese laid out her welted hand upon his calloused, large one, allowing the editor-in-chief to examine the injury. "It's swollen, alright," he concluded.

" _I want to file a complaint!_ " Genevieve spoken up fiercely.

Therese reeled her hand away from Atkins, who started moving around to grab some paperwork.


	27. “I believe you!”

Therese’s mind was going south. By the end of the day she was completely out of it. She had no broken bones, but her hand had some bruising. George was nice enough to wrap her hand with a paisley printed handkerchief. He stood inches above her in the hallway. Therese did not want this kind of pampering, especially from sports writer, George Perron. He did not mind, because he always took care of his twin sister, Faye. Abruptly, Therese pulled her injured hand out from his fingers and glanced nervously past them at everyone else departing their tables and desks to go home.

“How’s your hand, Bel?” The young man asked, not knowing she despised the nickname deeply. 

“Aches,” Therese mumbled. She had the image of the top drawer shutting on her fingers replaying her mind over and over again.

“Eve says she caught you dozing off at your desk and that’s when you slapped her the minute she woke you up.”

Therese angrily pushed past him to get to the stairs. George followed beside her, sliding his hand down along the bannister. “That can’t be true, because I know you wouldn’t do that! Eve is making the whole thing up, isn’t she, Bel?” He grabbed her by the arm and tugged for her to peer back at him. “You were never asleep, were you, Bel?”

“No!” Therese growled. She now pulled herself off of him to finish descending the last few steps.

“I believe you!”

She hurried past through the moving bodies of her coworkers towards the exit doors with Genevieve watching from the sidelines.


	28. “I don’t know how.”

“What happened to your hand?” Carol asked the moment Therese slipped inside the Packard. She reached over and carefully took the tied up handkerchief to examine it.

“I spilled coffee and burned myself,” Therese lied. She could barely look at Carol in the face. She felt horrible for lying, but she was getting so good at keeping the truth these days.

“We’ll need to put some ice on that,” Carol went on, leaning down to kiss it. 

Back at the apartment, Therese fidgeted at the kitchen table with Carol nursing her hand by rolling ice cubes along the surface of her knuckles.

“I’m always here for you, sweetheart. And I wish—I wish you could tell me what’s going on,” Carol sighed.

Therese’s body language stiffened and she was angry and defensive now. “Nothing’s going on, alright?”

She pulled her swollen hand away from the melting ice cubes and left Carol alone in the kitchen, who covered her face with defeat.

xxxx

Therese brought in George’s handkerchief back to the office the next morning with her mind on Carol, who wouldn’t speak to her in bed when she kissed her goodbye. Carol had been lying on her side, her eyes puffy from crying. Therese pressed her mouth above the older woman’s brow, who painfully closed her eyes shut and held her breath.

 _“Carol, I love you,”_ she had said.

The blonde remained quiet and still. She was done trying to get anything out.

Now at work, holding the silk handkerchief out to George in complete silence, the young man shook his head and smiled.

“Keep it, Bel,” he told her. “I’ve got plenty.”

As she held onto the cloth, George shoved his hands inside his trouser pockets and kept going. “Say, do you like to fish? I was hoping I could take you to the lake this afternoon. We can go right after work. Faith's coming along with her new beau.”

Therese stared up at George and thought of Carol not speaking to her. Carol with her eyes squeezed shut tight with absolute grievance.

“Bel?” George repeated her name.

“I don’t know how,” she found herself saying. 

“Oh? It’s easy,” he snorted. “I’ll teach you when we go! Hedge Lake is where we’ll be heading!”

George left her standing there alone in the hallway to go back to his own desk. Therese had allowed him to take her out this very afternoon without her realizing it.

Genevieve Cantrell, known as Eve Carson temporarily, had been standing right underneath the stairwell and had heard everything.


	29. "Where is she? What's this all about?"

George had the cream hood of his blue-silver Mercedes rolled down to let the fresh air and bright afternoon sunshine splash the faces on all four of the passengers during their half hour drive to the lake. Therese sat beside George in the front with her hands sweating between the legs of her dress. Faith Perron and her boyfriend, Ned Adams, were nestled comfortably together with the fishing gear and picnic basket stored in the backseats. The radio playing Nat King Cole kept losing its signal and was drowning out with static. Hearing the noise made Therese realize that was exactly how she was feeling. Her nerves were acting up again. _At least I'm nowhere near Eve,_ she thought with self reassurance.

Faith and Ned wanted to drive faster. They kept telling George to, "Floor it!" while speeding through the highway. Their words of encouragement really excited the young man so much he followed their commands within seconds.

Therese had been gripping onto the vinyl padding once the Mercedes accelerated and sped further down along the smooth, winding roads. The car engine gunned loudly beneath her. The wind felt strong and heavy as it blew on her hair and face. She could hear the joyful, cheering shouts that were coming from everybody else. Her heart was practically lodged in the back of her throat by the time George slowed the car down and made a left turn that would lead them all to Hedge Lake.

"You won't be needing that, Bel," George was telling Therese the moment she picked her leather briefcase off the floor seat in the car. "Let's try not to bring work with us!"

Ned snickered behind a freckled fist that got Faith elbow-shoving him to be quiet.

They left the car parked in the middle of an empty lot behind the woods and started making their way down a narrow dirt path leading them towards the lake with the sun beaming down their backs. Therese had no time to change and was not dressed for the occasion. Sand and dirt got inside her pair of flats. Her skin glistened with sweat underneath the tight fabric of her dress. And she desperately needed to go use the restroom, but as far as she could see, there were no outhouses.

"So beautiful out!" Faith exclaimed, gripping her arm tightly through Ned's. The picnic basket was bumping against her thigh. She wore a plastic pair of cherry red sunglasses with a floral button sleeveless blouse and circle skirt. Her sandy brown hair was pulled tight in an ironcurled ponytail. Ned wore a pocket plaid shirt and khaki shorts with a pair of gaiters. He was carrying the fishing poles and a metal lure box in his hands and had been sweating bullets from the surprisingly hot heat.

George began whistling a happy tune out of his mouth. He would glance down at Therese every now and then. He offered to hold her hand, but she awkwardly turned away from him and pretended not to notice. 

They picked a bald spot near the water and laid out an old tablecloth for them to sit on. Therese shifted back and forth on her feet, looking for a place to pee.

"Do you have to go, Bel?" Faith asked her, staring at her through her shades. Both George and Ned were grinning along. 

"I could use some privacy," Therese mumbled.

"Just walk back up the hill and head into the woods," Faith instructed her. "Would you like me to come with you?"

"N-No," Therese stammered. She sprinted off.

 

xxxx

 

"Any calls for me?"

"Sorry, hon, none."

Carol rubbed the back of her neck and walked in a small circle in front of her coworker, Janet Melrose, at her furniture store on 4th Avenue. There were only two customers browsing the shop. A gentleman pulling on a glass door to a bookcase, and a peacock feathered hat wearing lady close-examining a ceramic swan flower vase. The slow business of the late afternoon was unbearable. Janet was already sneaking behind the desk counter to retrieve her bag and cardigan.

"Do you mind if I leave now, Carol? I have to make it to my sister's engagement party I promised I wouldn't be late for," she said, slipping both her arms through the knitted lilac colored sweater.

"Go ahead," Carol dismissed her. She now stood still in her leather pumps and tried putting her mind off Therese and the fact she hadn't called yet to be picked up.

Closing the furniture shop felt insufferable and lonely as Carol took the time locking the building from the outside. Daily New Yorkers walked back and forth past her on the sidewalks. Dropping her keys inside her purse, Carol headed straight for the Packard. Standing there on the curb next to the car, was that short tousled haired girl, Genevieve.

"Hello," Carol greeted her with a hint of surprise.

"Hi, Carol," Genevieve spoke softly. "It’s nice to see you again."

"Were you waiting for me?" 

"I thought you should know what's going on with Therese."

"Where is she? What's this all about?"

"She didn't tell you? She's gone fishing!" Genevieve replied, biting her lips to keep herself from laughing.


	30. "Your head must be full of secrets."

"Here she comes," Ned sang out loud, watching Therese carefully make her way back down the hill. Faith looked over her shoulder while nibbling on a white breaded cheese sandwich. George was busy untangling a clump of fishing wire. 

"Made it out of the woods all right?" he asked the moment Therese sat down beside him on the faded red tablecloth.

"Yeah," she replied. She turned her head back to look at the wiggling brown worm Ned was holding close to her face from an old mushroom soup can. "Would you like me to bait your hook, or do you want to do it yourself?" he asked her with pure glee. 

Before she could respond, Therese heard Faith screaming the moment Ned was now dangling the worm above her sandwich.

_"Ned! Cut that out!"_

Minutes later, George was leading Therese towards the water and stood beside her on the lake's sand covered shoreline with just the one fishing pole he carried. He let her hold onto it, but she didn't know what to do next. Blinking down, Therese watched George closing his right, large hand over her small one and started cranking up the lever.

"Ned can be such a pest sometimes..."

"Your sister sure likes him."

"Faith doesn't know anyone better."

Therese kept quiet and soon found herself reeling up the line with George's help. A gasp came out of her the second he made her swing the pole forward and felt a puff of his warm breath hit the curve of her neck. Their fishing line spun and casted out in front of them with the hook landing underwater a few feet ahead of them.

"Now what?" Therese murmured.

"Now we just wait," George told her. He loosened his grip, but stood next to her. Too close for her liking. The sun was hiding behind the trees getting later by the day. Ned was laying over necking Faith on the tablecloth. Therese took a deep breath and began to think about the men she encountered in her life. There was Richard Semco, Phil McElroy, his kid brother, Dannie, Carol's ex-husband, Harge. Oh, and there was that no-good-for-nothing Tommy Tucker. There were also doctors, lawyers, police officers, all the men at the office. Every single one of them were different, and yet, they all felt the same to her, because she had no actual feelings for them. No real desire for any of them. Not Richard, not Dannie, not George.

"You're so quiet, Bel," George was telling her now. "Your head must be full of secrets."

Therese smiled shyly.

"I like a quiet woman. And I'm glad I got the chance to spend this afternoon with you." A rattling cough came out, startling her. "I know you're probably wondering why I didn't invite Eve along, but don't get me wrong. It's not her I'm after..."

Therese almost dropped the fishing pole when she felt an instant tug on the line. George quickly cupped one hand around her waist with the other one grabbing onto her arm. He laughed with good measure and his belt buckle poked her side. She quickly let him have it and moved away to watch him take a few steps backwards to reel up the wire. 

"I think we've got a bite!" he announced.

Therese wiped the sweat off her hands. She was all done and ready to go home.


	31. “I invited her over, Therese.”

It was past 5:00. Therese knew Carol would be home from work. George had drove her back to the city, back to her neighborhood where the car slowly rolled to a stop along the curb.

“You expecting someone?” he asked her the minute he took sight of Carol’s yellow Packard parked alongside the narrow driveway. He watched Therese shakily unbuckle her seatbelt.

“My roommate,” was all she could tell him before scrambling out of the blue-silvery Mercedes. She took her work briefcase from his twin sister who was holding it out for her.

Faith blew out a kiss. Ned had fallen asleep and was snoring loudly in the backseat with his face pressed up against the side window. 

Therese waved them all goodbye and headed back towards the apartment. Pushing the door shut behind her, she heard the low droning of notes the piano was playing from the living room. She found Carol on the bench with a cup of tea set on top. Sitting on the edge of the couch, flipping through a music score booklet, was Genevieve.

 _“What is she doing here?”_ the words were thundering out of her, making both women look towards her direction.

“Therese,” Carol spoke softly, closing her eyes, as if it was too painful to see any more of her. 

Genevieve laid the music booklet aside and wore a small, innocent grin. She folded her hands together and blinked. Therese could see there were no glasses on her face. 

“Get out!” Therese snapped.

“I invited her over, Therese.” Carol remained calm and gave her a certain look that could melt ice. “Where were you this afternoon?”

“I-I was working—” Therese caught a glimpse of Genevieve covering her mouth hiding a smile. Carol, however, was not in a pleasant mood.

“Stop lying,” She spoke up with heated anger. “I know about the fishing trip, alright?”

“Carol, that isn’t—that’s not—” Therese caught Gen’s eyes now speaking to her in some secret code: _You tell, it’s Hell._ She held back her tongue; allowing Carol to continue.

“It’s not the fact that you went without telling me, but lying about it is what gets me. I don’t mind other people in your life, but there’s no reason to hide it. Genevieve has told me everything. About the trip, about George.” 

“George is just a coworker,” Therese scowled. “He’s not anyone I really... It doesn’t matter.”

“Did you catch anything?” Genevieve joined the discussion. “Fish, I mean?”

“It’s getting late. I think you should leave,” Therese growled. Carol rubbed a finger between her eyes. She got up from the piano bench. Genevieve picked herself off the couch and followed Carol out of the door.

Confused and angry, Therese heard Carol telling her that she would be gone shortly to drop Gen off and that dinner was left in a crockpot for her on the stove.


	32. “Harm her? Is that what I’m doing?”

“I’m worried about Therese.”

Carol side-glanced at Genevieve in the passenger seat on their ride towards town. She waited for the girl to continue.

“She’s not been herself lately...” to add fuel to the fire and become more convincing, Genevieve sucked on a knuckle with a painful look on her face.

“In what way?”

“It’s her behavior during office hours. She arrives late, leaves late, falls asleep on her desk. Skips lunch meals to smoke cigarettes outside the back of our building...”

Carol abruptly released a small, nervous laugh.

“Glad you found the funny side to this, Carol—you heard how angry Therese was tonight. How guilty she looked for getting caught with that George Perron boy and his stupid fishing trip! If there ever was one!” Genevieve exclaimed.

“He’s the least of my concerns. I know how men look at Therese and how much they admire her. Unfortunately, it’s been _you_ that I find so troubling...”

“Me?” Genevieve scoffed.

“You’ve been a threat to us from the very beginning.” Carol pulled over beside the curb where the bus stop was located. She left the Packard stalling with the engine running and turned to face Genevieve through her pair of sunglasses.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave Therese alone. No more visits. No more phone calls or gifts left on our welcome mat. If you try to harm her—”

“Harm her? Is that what I’m doing?” Genevieve shook her head. Yet, Carol didn’t move a muscle. This high class persona she wore, had really put a damper on Gen’s mood. She refused to let go that easy.

“All I’m trying to do is save her before she does something she’ll later regret. Good luck, Carol.” Genevieve got out of the car; slamming the door shut.


	33. “How was the drive?”

“How was the drive?”

The question was harmless enough, but cautious nonetheless. Carol could barely look at Therese, who was standing in the middle of the hallway, picking around her beef stew in a bowl, while she, the oldest one in the relationship, loosened up the floral headscarf she wore for the evening and removed the worn out leather pair of heels off her nylon-clad feet.

“We had a brief talk.” Carol lined up her shoes with the others on the floor. 

Therese clicked her fork against the rim of her bowl.

“Genevieve’s concerned about your behavior during office hours. You’re falling asleep on your desk, skipping lunch meals, arriving home late—”

“I haven’t been sleeping on my desk. As for skipping lunch, it was only once! And I’m sorry for coming home late. George and the fishing trip,” Therese babbled on. Carol moved towards the stairs. With one hand on the railing and her right foot on the step, she took a deep breath and waved the sports journalist away.

“George Perron is not my problem, darling, but if he has become a part of your life, I would like to meet him and his twin sister for dinner sometime. I support your social skills outside of your job, even if I don’t play a part in it. Alright?”

Therese nodded.

“Oh, and I told Genevieve to leave us alone from now on and stay away from you. She wasn’t too happy to hear that, but I think she got the message. The girl’s all done meddling with our heads—especially yours.”

 _If only that were true!_ Therese thought in despair.

“I’ll be upstairs if you need me. Last chance to say anything...”

Therese simply clicked her fork against the rim of her bowl and let the discussion drop along with Carol continuing to move forward.


	34. “Who’s Carol?”

Kitt Jameson and Alice Sherwood were standing over the bathroom sinks, fixing each other’s makeup, not knowing Therese Belivet was crying behind one of the stalls. She closed her trembling lips; pressing a crumpled tissue against her pink nostrils. The women didn’t notice her reflection through the mirror. They kept talking about their lives outside of work, the latest hollywood picture, and some of the men they couldn’t stand working with in the company. Their conversation included a name that Therese grew to loathe and despise very deeply. Genevieve’s alter ego—Eve Carson.

“I find her utterly repulsive,” Alice sniffed, powdering her face with a foam pad. 

“She’s odd,” Kitt agreed, twisting her golden tube of lipstick with a click of her tongue.

“Remember when she colored her hair blonde?” Alice snorted.

“I think she was going for Lombard,” Kitt smirked. “And the fact that we pretended to like it!”

The women pitched a fit of giggles and were gone with their clutch bags. They made Therese feel a little better and hopeful that she wasn’t the only one who could smell Eve’s foul stench persona.

Lunchtime, Therese could barely listen to a word what George was saying about his favorite baseball teams, because Genevieve had been sitting on her right, trying to spoon feed her some cherry flavored jello.

“Eat up,” Gen instructed. 

“Don’t,” Therese murmured.

“C’mon now,” she said. “Would you eat it, if Carol asked you?”

George had finally shut up about the White Sox. 

“Who’s Carol?”

“Bel’s roommate,” Genevieve replied gently, slurping the jello into her own mouth. “How come you never talk about her, Therese dearest?”

George waited. He wanted to know the same thing. 

“I respect Carol’s privacy.”

“I bet you do.” 

Therese blushed profusely over this crass comment, but Genevieve kept talking.

“Carol dropped me off the bus station just the other night. Such a sweetheart! Works at a furniture store on 4th Avenue, has a daughter she barely sees, because she lives with her—Oww!” Genevieve pulled her right foot out from underneath the table. Therese had dug her left heel right into Gen’s thin layer of skin.


	35. “Are you going to fire me?”

Mr. Atkins sighed loudly as he leaned back in his desk chair with his hands folded on top of his head. Therese Belivet was seated across from him, picking her nails. She was brought in the office a second time for kicking Genevieve during lunch. Unbelievable.

“You do know our newspaper company has a zero tolerance for violence, correct Miss Belivet?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Miss Carson has informed me you crushed her foot during lunch break and broke skin. She already has filled out another injury report against you. Try to understand my position, Miss Belivet. We do not accept this type of behavior in the workplace.”

“Are you going to fire me?” the words sounded foreign through her ears, but she had the right to know. She had to find out her punishment.

“I’m putting you on suspension until further notice. I am truly sorry.”

_Suspension._

_That meant she was banned from the annex building entirely._

Of course everyone else found out. Miss Belivet’s troublesome, erratic behavior was their latest gossip.

Genevieve tried confronting Therese on the way out. The small brunette had been crying again and looked so fed up and sickened by the madness of it all.

“Therese, honey, I had no intention for this to happen,” she said. She spontaneously made herself cry too, blinking out fresh, hot tears.

“You’re loving this,” Therese spat. She aggressively started to shove her arms away from Gen’s reach, who was trying to hug her and make her feel better again—erase all that she’s done to her.

“Let's go back and talk to Atkins—see if we can change his mind...”

_“It’s too late for that! Stop it! Get away from me! Just leave me alone!”_


	36. “This lifestyle has to stop.”

Carol held up one piece of the artificial fall leaves garland in her hands while her assistant, Janet, raised up the other end above her head, standing on a ladder. The ladies spent a huge amount of the day decorating the furniture store, trying to make it look festive for the upcoming season.

“Did I tell you my kids are in school now?” Janet asked, placing her fingers at the spot above the doorframe where she wanted the garland to go.

“No. What grades?”

“Third and Fourth.”

“That’s wonderful, Jan. They sure grow up fast!”

“Your Rindy must be in the system by now.”

“Yes. Kindergarten. Harge drops her off and picks her up every morning.”

“They are so sweet when they get to be that age!”

Carol hummed with agreement, but she couldn’t help but feel sadness and resentment wash over her the second she realized she had missed out on her daughter’s first day of school. The court ruled out that she was an unfit mother and lost full custody. Harge was the father and parent that was able to raise their daughter right, not Carol, Rindy’s own mother. All because of her sexual attraction towards other women and the fact that she had fallen in love with one.

The shop’s tiny bell hanging above the door would ring at any given moment when a customer came through. It rang shrilly the second Therese pushed her way inside, her cheeks and nose all rosy and pink from the chilly weather. Carol’s bluish-gray eyes lit up at the sight of her.

“Dearest, what are you doing here? I thought I was picking you up? Did you walk all this way...?” Letting go of the garland, Carol quickly stepped over to come embrace her young partner. She felt Therese’s whole body shivering against her hold, which made her pull back and see all the damage that was done.

“What happened, Therese?”

“I can’t discuss it here,” she murmured. “Can we go home?”

“Let me say goodbye first,” Carol whispered back. She turned around to face Janet, who had been watching the two lovers the entire time, slowly gathering up the rest of the fall leaves in her hands.

“Janet Melrose, meet Therese Belivet,” Carol breezily introduced.

“Hi, Therese! I’m Janet!”

“Hello.”

“You okay, sugar?”

“I’m taking her home,” Carol quickly informed. “Working for the Times can be quite exhausting!”

“The New York Times?! I bet! Well don’t let me keep you—I’ll lock up when I leave, Carol! Goodbye! Nice meeting you, Therese!” 

Janet dismissed them with a wave on the ladder.

xxxxxxxxx

Therese broke the news about her suspension during dinner time when they were having pork chops with applesauce and canned string beans.

Carol, who was in the middle of chewing her meat, sat frozen in her chair at the end of the table, staring across the dining room, wordlessly. She watched Therese’s mouth quiver as she slid some of her veggies into her applesauce, not really eating it. 

“Suspended? What does that mean?”

“It means I can’t work for a certain amount of time,” Therese said, carefully. “I go without pay.”

Carol swallowed hard, deciding that the pork was too bland and dry for her liking. 

“I kicked Genevieve today,” Therese confessed.

“What happen to that night when you said you were going to ignore her from now on?” Carol cried, growing more and more upset. “I told her to leave you alone! And what do you do? You kick her. Jesus Christ, Therese!” Her fork was thrown onto her plate with a fatal clatter.

“You don’t understand, Carol—she deserved it!” Therese exclaimed.

“What are you to do without a job? Huh? Did that ever cross your mind?”

“Of course it has, but I didn’t think it would happen to me,” Therese huffed. She leaned back from the table, away from her plate, and reached for her glass of water. Swallowing big gulps of it, she had set the drink down, not expecting to hear what was coming next.

“You need help, Therese. Not from me, but somebody else. A professional.”

“You think I need to see a shrink?!” 

“This lifestyle has to stop. It’s getting worse every day. You’re keeping secrets from me, you lose your job—”

 _“I didn’t lose it—I still have it!”_ Therese didn’t mean to sound so angry, but she was so sick of everything going against her instead of going well with her. 

Carol was crying now. She had got up from the table to get rid of her own food. Blinded by tears, she started scraping the remains of her dinner into the wastebasket with a fork. Therese quietly came over to stand beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Carol challenged her. She closed her mouth and started to regret her frustration the minute Therese pulled themselves in, exhaling their fragrance fumes deeply.

“I should go,” the young woman said, running her long, slender fingers along Carol’s blouse. “It’s not good for you...”

“What are you talking about? Go where?” Carol sniffled, holding her by the waist. A teardrop fell off the tip of her nose.

“I don’t know, Carol, but I can’t live with you anymore. Like you said, this lifestyle has to stop. I thought I was protecting you, but all I’m doing is hurting you...”

“That’s not fair.” 

Therese had pulled herself away, leaving the kitchen anyway.


	37. “How about a game of Charades?”

George Perron jogged around his blue-silver Mercedes towards the passenger seat to open the side door for Therese Belivet. She took his hand and got out from the vehicle. Letting go of him, she took a step forward. He reached behind her and swung the car door shut before heading towards the trunk to grab her luggage.

Therese looked up at the beige colored house she would temporarily be staying at. It was like any other house with a two-seated porch swing and a single hanging flower pot. Within seconds, the front door had burst open; revealing a squealing, overexcited Faith Perron, who was descending quickly down the wooden steps in a pair of kitten heels. Dressed up in a duckling yellow sweater and a long, flowing skirt, she pulled Therese at arms length to give her a great big, welcoming hug.

Ned Adams, Faith's boyfriend, stepped onto the wide porch, ripping off a chunk of black licorice with his teeth.

The four individuals toured each room of the house for Therese’s benefit. She had listened to both the Perron twins talk throughout with Ned adding a few wisecracking jokes in between. George made sure they stopped to take a look at his trophy case. Again, he was trying to impress Therese, but she simply nodded at the golden plaque statues and moved on.

Faith wanted to show off every single picture frame that was mantled or hung on the wall. Therese had seen childhood snapshots of the twins, their parents, their cousins, their uncles, their aunts. Both sets of grandparents and even their border collie dog, Blackjack.

“Big family,” Therese murmured.

“Yes, ma’am,” George chuckled. 

“My throat’s parched from talking so much—who wants apple cider?” Faith offered.

They settled themselves in the living room with cinnamon donuts and glasses of apple cider. Therese sat awkwardly on the edge of the Perrons’ loveseat with George, who was leaned back with one leg folded, and one arm draped around the cushions with his hand inches close from touching Therese’s shoulder. Ned was seated on the sofa armchair with Faith perched comfortably on his knees, holding onto her donut with a napkin in one hand and her glass of cider in the another.

“It might take you a couple days to adjust here,” Faith began, “but we’re glad to have you with us!”

“Thank you...” Therese sipped her cider politely, feeling all eyes on her. 

“George told us you got suspended. That’s rough.” Ned gave out a low whistle, which quickly made his girlfriend to elbow him to shut up.

It now got quiet with the only sounds of the constant ticking pendulum of the Perron’s grandfather clock next to the bookcase and the thudding beating of Therese’s heart. 

“How about a game of Charades?” George finally spoken up, fiddling around with his necktie.

They played in teams by gender: George & Ned. Therese & Faith. The men kept cheating, making sounds and throwing out rhymes. Therese was good during her round. When she was acting out as a mailman, the boys and Faith had guessed she was a mountain climber, a librarian, a doctor. As soon as she made hand and tongue gestures of folding and sealing an envelope, everybody shouted, _“Mailman!”_ incredulously.


	38. “I think you’ll fit just fine...”

“How good are you with measurements?” asked her potential new boss, Irina Duvall, cocking her steely-gray head to one side. She was staring at Therese Belivet inside her office at the Cloth House located on West Ave. The question needed a honest answer for the part-time position in the fabric department.

“I can use a pair of scissors with a steady hand,” Therese said carefully.

“What’s the length to make a yard?”

“Thirty-six inches.”

“If a customer comes over to your counter and asks for a catalog, what would you most likely say?”

“...” 

Ms. Duvall slapped her hand on the desk table with emphasis. _“We do not provide any printed catalogs! Our inventory changes daily!”_ her aging, brittle voice projected each word and syllable.

Therese pressed the roof of mouth with her tongue, feeling moisture seeping through the capped sleeves of her blouse with sweat. It was Faith’s idea to work at the Cloth House. A way to earn some pocket money and give her something to do. It was Faith’s idea to set up this dreadful interview and meet this loony manager, Irina Duvall.

“I like you, Miss Belivet,” Irina continued on, rubbing her spotty chin with two yellow nailed fingers. “I think you’ll fit just fine here...”

“When do I start..?”

“Best time is now!”


End file.
